#i identified as bi for so long but haven’t dated anyone for over three years

[sisamelle]

just needed to actually get the words out there somewhere, but: i am a lesbian!!

omg!!!!!

[mishafletcher]

Are you a Gold Star lesbian? (Just in case you don't know what it means, a Gold Star lesbian is a lesbian that has never had the sex with a guy and would never have any intentions of ever doing so)

So I got this ask a while ago, and I've been lowkey thinking about it ever since.

First: No. I am a queer, cranky dyke who is too old for this sort of bullshit gatekeeping. 

Second: What an unbelievable question to ask someone you don't even know! What an incomprehensibly rude thing to ask, as if you're somehow owed information about my sexual history. You're not! No one—and I can't reiterate this enough, but no one—owes you the details of their sex lives, of their trauma, or of anything about themselves that they don't feel like sharing with you.

The clickbait mills of the internet and the purity police of social media would like nothing more than to convince everyone that you owe these things to everyone. They would like you to believe that you have to prove that you're traumatized enough to identify with this character, that you can't sell this article about campus rape without relating it to your own sexual assault, that you can't talk about queer issues without offering up a comprehensive history of your own experiences, and none of those things are true. You owe people, and especially random strangers on the internet, nothing, least of all citations to somehow prove to them that you have the right to talk about your own life.

This makes some people uncomfortable, and to be clear, I think that that's good: people who feel entitled to demand this information should be uncomfortable. Refusing to justify yourself takes power away from people who would very much like to have it, people who would like to gatekeep and dictate who is permitted to speak about what topics or like what things. You don't have to justify yourself. You don't have to explain that you like this ship because this one character reminds you a bit of yourself because you were traumatized in a vaguely similar way and now— You don't have to justify your queerness by telling people about the best friend you had when you were twelve, and how you kissed, and she laughed and said it was good practice for when she would kiss boys and your stomach twisted and your mouth tasted like bile and she was the first and last girl you kissed, but— 

You don't owe anyone these pieces of yourself. They're yours, and you can share them or not, but if someone demands that you share, they're probably not someone you should trust.

Third: The idea of gold star lesbians is a profoundly bi- and trans- phobic idea, often reducing gender to genitals and the long, shared history of queer women of all identities to a stark, artificial divide where some identities are seen as purer or more valuable than others. This is bullshit on all counts.

There's a weird and largely artificial division between bisexuals and lesbians that seems to be intensifying on tumblr, and I have to say: I hate it. Bisexual women aren't failed lesbians. They're not somehow less good or less valid because they're attracted to [checks notes] people. Do you think that having sex with a man somehow changes them? What are you so worried about it for? I've checked, and having sex with a man does not, in fact, make your vagina grow teeth or tentacles. Does that make you feel better? Why is what other people are doing so threatening to you?

Discussions of gold star lesbians are often filled with tittering about hehe penises, which is unfortunate, since I know a fair few lesbians who have penises, and even more lesbians who've had sex with people, men and women alike, who have penises. I'm sorry to report that "I'm disgusted by a standard-issue human body part" is neither a personality nor anything to be proud of. I'm a dyke and I don't especially like men, but dicks are just dicks. You don't have to be interested in them, but a lot of people have them, and it doesn't make you less of a lesbian to have sex with someone who has a dick.

There's so much garbage happening in the world—maybe you haven't noticed, but things are kind of Not Great in a lot of places, and there's a whole pandemic thing that's been sort of a major buzzkill? How is this something that you're worried about? Make a tea, remind yourself that other people's genitalia and sexual history are none of your business, maybe go watch a video about a cute animal or something. 

Fourth: The idea of gold star lesbians is a shitty premise that argues that sexuality is better if it's always been clear-cut and straightforward—but it rarely is. We live in a very, very heterosexist culture. I didn’t have a word for lesbian until many years after I knew that I was one. How can you say that you are something when your mouth can’t even make the shape of it? The person you are at 24 is different to the person you are at 14, and 34, and 74. You change. You get braver. The world gets wider. You learn to see possibilities in the shadows you used to overlook. Of course people learn more about themselves as they age.

Also, many of us, especially those of us who grew up in smaller towns, or who are over the age of, say, 25, grew up in times and places where our sexuality was literally criminal.

Shortly after I graduated high school, a gay man in my state was sentenced to six months in jail. Why? Well, he’d hit on someone, and it was a misdemeanor to "solicit homosexual or lesbian activity", which included expressing romantic or sexual interest in someone who didn’t reciprocate. You might think, then, that I am in fact quite old, but you would be mistaken. The conviction was in 1999; it was overturned in 2002.

I grew up knowing this: the wrong thing said to the wrong person would be sufficient reason to charge me with a crime.

In the United States, the Defense of Marriage Act was passed in 1996, clarifying that according to the federal government, marriage could only ever be between one man and one woman. It also promised that even if a state were to legalize same-sex unions, other states wouldn't have to recognize them if they didn't want to. And wow, they super did not want to, because between 1998 and 2012, a whopping thirty states had approved some sort of amendment banning same-sex marriage.

Every queer person who's older than about 25 watched this, knowing that this was aimed at people like them. Knowing that these votes were cast by their friends and their families and their teachers and their employers. 

Some states were worse than others. Ohio passed their bill in 2004 with 62% approval. Mississippi passed theirs the same year with 86% approval. Imagine sitting in a classroom, or at work, or in a church, or at a family dinner, and knowing that statistically, at least two out of every three people in that room felt you shouldn't be allowed to marry someone you loved.

Matthew Shepard was tortured to death in October of 1998. For being gay, for (maybe) hitting on one of the men who had planned to merely rob him. Instead, he was tortured and left to die, tied to a barbed wire fence. His murderers were both sentenced to two consecutive life terms in prison. This was controversial, because a nonzero number of people felt that Shepard had brought it upon himself.

Many of us sat at dinner tables and listened to this discussion, one that told us, over and over, that we were fundamentally wrong, fundamentally undeserving of love or sympathy or of life itself.

This is a tiny, tiny sliver of history—a staggeringly incomplete overview of what happened in the US over about ten years. Even if this tiny sliver is all that there were, looking at this, how could you blame someone for wanting to try being not Like This? How can you fault someone who had sex, maybe even had a bunch of sex, hoping desperately that maybe they could be normal enough to be loved if they just tried harder? How can you say that someone who found themself an uninteresting but inoffensive boyfriend and went on dates and had sex and said that it was fine is somehow less valuable or less queer or less of a lesbian for doing so? For many people, even now, passing as straight, as problematic as that term is, is a survival skill. How dare you imply that the things that someone did to protect themself make them worth less? They survived, and that's worth literally everything.

Fifth, finally: What is a gold star, anyhow? You've capitalized it, like it's Weighty and Important, but it's not. Gold stars were what your most generous grade school teacher put on spelling tests that you did really well on. But ultimately, gold stars are just shiny scraps of paper. They don't have any inherent value: I can buy a thousand of them for five bucks and have them at my door tomorrow. They have only the meaning that we give them, only the importance that we give them. We’re not children desperately scrabbling for a teacher’s approval anymore, though. We understand that good and bad are more of a spectrum than a binary, and that a gold star is a simplification. We understand that no number of gold stars will make us feel like we’re special enough or good enough or important enough, or fix the broken places we can still feel inside ourselves. Only we can do that.

The stars are only shiny scraps of paper. They offer us nothing; we don’t need them. I hope that someday, you see that, too. 

[confused-bi-queer]

My journey, I was never straight, just in love with a guy

I feel safe, so I will write this, just because. Nobody is gonna read this anyway

I’m angry because it took me 18 years to freaking know that I’m not straight and there were several things that were obvious and I wish I would’ve notice them. So, here I go. I’m a her at this moment, keep that in mind.

When I was like 6 or so, I pretended to be a boy, for myself. It always made me curious.

When I was like 8 or 9 I never had a problem in dancing with another girl, I was always one of the tall ones and sometimes boys weren’t enough, so they put me with a girl friend and I liked to pretend I was a boy.

When I was like 10, I realized that my height never bothered me, just the fact that I was a tall girl and boys at that age were really really short.

When I was 11, or 12, I went to a catholic school dressed as a man. This was funny and cool. They told us to go in a costume and I went with a suit and a tie, and the director gave me a bad look, but I FELT SAFE. I liked my “costume”.

At that age, I wore a boxer for the first time and enjoyed the fact that I had men’s clothes, I hate them tho, they are uncomfortable.

When I was like 13, I almost kissed my girl best friend, by accident, and I didn’t care, but the fact that there were like 4 other people watching us, made me nervous.

When I was 14, I joked a lot about kissing a friend and spent over a WEEK figuring out which girl had the most desirable lips and who I would kiss if I could, the funny thing is that I had a boyfriend.

At that same time, I had a best friend, another girl, and we always joked about being girlfriends and we always planned, as a joke, to break up with our boyfriends and be together. I broke up with him like 4 months later, but for other reasons.

In those moments I noticed that it wouldn’t bother me if I ever had a girlfriend, to experiment right? (Crowley, the lies I told myself)

When I was 16, one morning I woke up and chose not to give a fuck and dressed up like the boys at my school: with long shorts, a hoddie, my socks high and like that and I felt nice, but my sibling was like “you’re gonna go like that” and changed.

By the end of 2019, my family knew that I liked dressing like a guy sometimes and my mom told me in public, “Why don’t you come like a man, you know, with your tie and suit?” and I loved the idea, but the people around us laughed and I just told her I’ll pass.

I went shopping with my family, to buy clothes, and I was feeling shy because I wanted to buy boy shirts, but I didn’t want anyone to look at me. I told my dad this, and he said it was fine and bought me 3 shirts, I felt soooo good, because I sometimes feel safer in those clothes.

NOW, from here was the real mess, when I noticed that this was not someone straight would do. In the middle of 2020, I was playing a game, A GAME, this episode thingy and chose a girl, because what the hell, I thought it would be fun and it was, and I’m in the middle of a dance class and said out loud for me: “well, this is way more exciting that with a dude” and everything just screwed up from here. Because when I heard myself I was like, what did I just say, and I spent the rest of the class thinking about that.

When the class finished, I thought more and realized that I might not be that straight after all. I questioned if I ever liked men or just my ex, because I’ve been in love with that guy sfor years, I don’t anymore, but I was into him from 5 years until I was 16 years, and that’s why I never knew anything about myself. After that, I made counts and I do like men, but girls too????? And FUCKING GOOGLED IT. Because I labelled myself immediately as a bi girl. And one test was like: “Well, if you’re here asking if you are straight, you’re not” and that sticked with me.

After that, I did some research and went back in my life and labelled myself again. Here’s the thing, I don’t like thinking about sex with men, I haven’t, and that thought made me anxious and disgusted, no offense men, and considered being an ace bisexual, like being attracted to both genders, but no sex. Buuuut, I found out about this term “demisexual” and fits me. But the problem was now the girls and it’s taking me some time to still discover at what point I’m attracted to them, but I am. At this moment I’m definitely bi, demisexual for the boys and confused with girls.

I have came out to three people, and whoever sees this, but doesn’t know who I am. The first person was a friend of mine, bisexual, and she was hella excited for me, so I feel safe with her. The second one was my sister, I tried, and boy did I regret it; she spent over half hour saying that I was confused and that only because a boy broke my heart I couldn’t hate men and that how would I ever be sure (because I didn’t tell her I was sure) and sometimes I say that a girl is pretty or things like that, but never to make her remember I came out. The last one is my best friend, we were on zoom and I sent her a text, didn’t talk about that, but sometimes I feel connected to her.

I cut my hair to my chin. And that felt NICE, I love my short hair, but I couldn’t cut it shorter, like a guy, because I dance and I need at least some hair to make a pony tail, at least. But once I’m out, I will cut it.

Once I was sure of me being bi and solved this thing that didn’t take me that long, just like 6 months, and I was finally happy and proud and I knew myself more, like I found myself, at the end of 2020 I started hating my clothes and my long hair. Because my hair is growing up so fucking fast.

On december 2020, I felt uncomfortable in my own skin, I sometimes am, and decided that when 2021 ends, I’ll know if I felt like that because I want to change the aesthetic of my clothes. I thought it was just that, I think it still is.

At the end of February and beginning of March of this year, I read Carry on and Wayward son, by Rainbow Rowell, and loved them, although I’m broken and not mentally stable anymore, but I loved them, I found my comfortable characters, Snowbaz, and I feel connected to them, because they have been an inspiration for a novel I’m writing, they have change me, and they are kinda ruining me, because I thought I wanted to become a director, but turns out I want to go to UK and study fucking literature (a plan I thought didn’t exist anymore, it does, AGAIN). Well, thanks to Baz in WS, I found my aesthetic: flower shirts. And actually flowers have always been my thing, but not once I have wore them because my mom always said they were too much. That’s why I don’t know if my gender identity is crap, because I never had a place to dress like I wanted: using men’s clothes.

Thanks to Baz and his amazing shirts, one day, like last week, I dressed as himself, with the things I had, and I could because I had the clothes, but too girly. After that, it came to me a question, that it’s been messing with me. “Do I want to look like Baz, or do I want to be Baz?” And that’s why I’m having a problem with my pronouns, mind, identity, fucking clothes and everything. A fictional character just messed with me!

I saw this person in tiktok that was gender fluid and I kinda identified with them, because some times I feel masc and sometimes girly and some times I want to cry because no one in my family understand this and I’m the closeted gender confused sibling, child, cousin. So, I think that maybe I am gender fluid or just mentally ill. Crowley,I need to go to therapy.

So, I have stated that I want floral shirts, no matter what, I do, I am a floral person, but people just don’t want other people to be be themselves with their clothes. Yesterday, I went for an ice cream with my sister and told her this, that I wanted and AM a floral person and pointed at her floral shirts and blew my mind, I WANTED THEM and she responded with a “those are boys clothes”, and I told her “so? what about that?” and changed the topic. 

Basically, my problems are around the way I dress, the pandemic that has taken a complete year of my life and I want to fucking live, and the fact that I want to go to another country to study a career I discarded because I had a class like that in high school and broke me, and it is not cheap, I’m not good at it and my parents didn’t even like the idea of me living in another state my own country aaand it is too late for me to send an application for next semester.

Back to my original point, I never ever questioned anything of myself and my behaviours because I was in love with the same guy all my life and dated him for a long shit of time, so I thought because I liked him, I was a girl loving a guy, but after several years of having broken up with him, I am a someone bi, because I don’t know. I don’t, but spoiler alert... I am not straight, at all.

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 27)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 8.8k story words: 219.6k (so far) chapter: 27/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut, some depression genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: thank you to everyone for being the best audience i could hope for. i appreciate how patient y'all have been, how understanding you've been that i needed time time off because of Adulthood and Mental Health. i'm not feeling particularly articulate right now, but know that i love and appreciate you all. back to our regularly scheduled programming now! updates should come every 1.5 weeks-ish again :) also, a massive thanks to @auroraphilealis as always, not just for editing, but also for being a great best friend and a wonderful cheerleader. ily xx

Loud, persistent buzzing pulled Phil sharply from his sleep. It took a few sleepy seconds before he registered that the buzzing was his phone on his bedside table — and it was apparently ringing. Still half asleep, Phil waited until it stopped vibrating before reaching for it. It was too damn early to actually talk to anyone, but curiosity was still getting the best of him.

He pried an eye open and looked at the screen, instinctively flinching away from the bright light. Without his glasses, he was too blind to see who had called, but he could just barely make out the time — half past seven.

Nearly an hour before his alarm was due to go off.

That was nearly an hour of sleep that someone was trying to take from Phil. And after the whirlwind of last night’s date, Phil wanted nothing more than to sleep in. It wasn’t like Dan was here to give him a reason to get up.

With a stubborn, tired sigh, Phil rolled back into his pillow. Whoever had called could wait — at least until he was ready to get out of bed.

Just as he was drifting off again, though, his phone rang again. Grumbling, Phil pushed himself onto his elbows and held his phone close enough to his face that he could just barely make out PJ’s name.

PJ? Why was PJ calling him? PJ rarely called Phil. They skyped, sure, but those calls were usually scheduled and were always in the evening.

No, if PJ was caling at this hour, he must need something. And, unfortunately, Phil prided himself on being the Reliable Friend who always answered when his friends needed him.

Reluctantly, Phil swiped on PJ’s name, immediately putting the call on speaker so that he could fall back into his pillow.

“What the hell do you want, Peej?” Phil grumbled as soon as the phone call connected.

“Did I wake you up?”

“It’s not even eight in the morning,” Phil complained. “Of course you woke me up.”

“Mmm,” PJ hummed dismissively. “Are you with Dan?”

“No, I dropped him off after our date last night.” Phil stretched slightly, his hands reaching up under the pillow and hugging it closer to his face.

“Oh… have you, er, talked to him since?” PJ didn’t sound curious, and didn’t sound like he was trying to get information out of Phil about his date. PJ sounded… worried.

Growing concerned by PJ’s tone, Phil pushed himself back onto his elbows. “No, why? What happened?”

“I take it you haven’t been on the internet yet?”

“No. Get to the point, Peej,” Phil huffed impatiently.

“Dan — well, I thought maybe he’d’ve talked it over with you. I mean, twitter’s — fuck, how —“

“What the fuck happened?” Phil demanded, cutting off PJ’s rambling.

Even through the phone, and on speaker, Phil could hear PJ’s deep sigh, could feel his hesitation, before he finally spoke. “You need to look at Dan’s instagram. He sort of… made a big announcement in the dead of night.”

Phil felt a wave of dread wash over him. He certainly wasn’t sleepy anymore. A jumble of incoherent, panicked thoughts were battering at Phil’s brain, but he did his best to push them aside. Worrying wouldn’t do any good right now.

“Hang on, I’m pulling it up.”

Phil hit the home button on his phone with a bit more force than necessary, and was finally confronted with a frankly obscene amount of notifications given that he hadn’t done anything online since the day before yesterday, really. With a concerned huff, Phil swiped his glasses off his night table and shoved them onto his nose, the red dots on his iphone icons coming into focus.

Four hundred and twelve notifications from instagram.

One thousand, two hundred, and ninety from twitter.

Six emails in his work-only account.

And seven text messages.

Despite PJ’s urging to look at Dan’s instagram, Phil opened his messages first. There were three from PJ, which Phil ignored since Peej had clearly gotten ahold of him. Below PJ’s thread, there was a message from his mother and brother each. And finally below them were two messages from Dan.

The preview of their conversation showed that Dan’s most recent text — and we should probably talk — had come in at 3:34AM. That message alone made Phil’s heart pound against his chest.

“You there, mate?” PJ asked.

“Yeah,” Phil confirmed with a strangled gulp. “He texted me.”

“Oh?” PJ sounded interested.

Phil didn’t respond. He didn’t open the text. He didn’t breath. He didn’t do much of anything, really. He was frozen, trying to process what we should talk might mean, trying to convince himself it didn’t mean something horrible.

“Well?” PJ prompted when the silence drew on for too long. “What’d he say?”

“Right,” Phil mumbled as he forced himself to click on Dan’s message, to see what his previous message said. To see if it could make sense of whatever the fuck seemed to be happening this morning.

Phil’s eyes skimmed over his own four messages — he’d somehow blocked out the fact that he’d quadruple-texted Dan last night — before reading what Dan had said.

Dan [3:31 AM]: before you look at your twitter and instagram and whatever notifications, you should probably look at my instagram

Dan [3:34AM]: and we should probably talk

Together, the two messages did absolutely nothing to quell Phil’s anxiety. In fact, Phil’s heart was just thumping louder and more aggressively.

“He just said to look at his instagram.” Phil swallowed roughly. “And that we should talk.”

A quiet hum was PJ’s only response — another thing that didn’t help to calm the panic in Phil’s veins. Phil didn’t like the thoughts racing around his head, didn’t like that the first place his mind had gone was Isabella — and Dan getting back together with her.

Not that Phil really thought that was a risk, but still. The insecure part of his brain liked to remind him that Dan’s last partner had been a model, even if she was a bitch.

With a steeling breath, Phil tapped on the instagram icon.

It seemed to take a million and one years for the app to load, and when it finally did, it opened to a picture his brother had posted of his girlfriend.

Not helpful.

Not wanting to waste time scrolling through his feed, Phil tapped the magnifying glass. Dan’s name was at the top of his recent searches, a small “one new post” written below his username.

Quickly, but shaking with apprehension, Phil clicked on Dan’s profile.

It seemed to take forever for the page to load, but when it did, the first thing Phil saw was a picture of Dan’s scribbly handwriting, made all the more difficult to read by messy highlighting.

For a second, Phil was annoyed at the highlights, frustrated that Dan had obscured his writing even further than his nearly-illegible handwriting. But then the colors of the highlights sunk in — pink, purple, blue.

They were the bi-pride colors.

Phil knew, obviously, and he was certain Dan’s audience would know that, too.

By this point, Phil knew Dan well enough to know that Dan didn’t do anything unintentionally. Not in his music, not on social media, and not in real life. If he’d gone out of his way to highlight whatever he’d written and posted — well, the colors of the highlights were deliberate.

Phil bypassed the words in the picture and flickered down to the caption, hoping for a quick and easy explanation.

the majority of this album is being written thanks to one person. this is the song that started the whole concept of this album and i think it deserves a bit of an update after he took me out on the best first date of my life tonight. he might not have agreed with the timing of when i decided to rewrite it, though ;) xx

“Oh shit,” Phil muttered, dumbfounded, when the gravity of Dan’s caption finally sunk in.

“Yeah…” PJ murmured, his voice carefully neutral.

Phil glanced back up to the picture and scanned over Dan’s messy handwriting as fast as he could. From what Phil could tell, it looked like it was, well, about him. If the caption didn’t convince him, the let’s stop running from love and the fact that Dan confessed to rewriting something because of Phil last night…

“He came out,” Phil mumbled, unnecessarily pointing out the obvious.

“And took you with him, mate,” PJ grumbled.

Phil cocked his head to the side, his brows furrowing as he read and reread Dan’s post, trying to pinpoint what PJ was referencing. Nowhere did it mention his name or even anything identifying. The most telling piece of information was the he — but that pronoun could apply to a large portion of the world.

“How do’ya figure?” Phil asked.

“Mate, you and Dan haven’t been very subtle. Look at twitter.”

Even without opening twitter, Phil knew what PJ meant. Him and Dan had been, well, flirting for weeks now. There really wasn’t any other way to describe their online banter.

But upon skimming through his twitter notifications, Phil realized just how confident their audience was as they jumped to the albeit somewhat obvious conclusion.

Tweet after tweet had responded to Dan’s instagram post, all tagging Phil, all speculating on exactly who the he in Dan’s post could be.

And every tweet Phil saw guessed it was him.

And every tweet Phil saw was right.

“They all know anyway,” Phil mumbled flatly. He was supposed to be feeling something right now — surely he was. His boyfriend had just come out, his entire audience was — correctly — guessing that he was in a relationship with a famous singer, his own mum had probably texted him about it. And yet, Phil couldn’t wrap his mind around what he was feeling.

He just felt… surprised.

“Yeah. Are you okay with that?” PJ asked gently.

“I…” Phil tried to process all of the new new new as fast as he could. “I guess it was never that secret that I liked guys. I mean, how many times have I mentioned finding male celebrities attractive?”

“That’s true,” PJ agreed. “But I also know that hinting and confirming are two different things.”

“I mean… yeah,” Phil finally relented.

“But you didn’t know Dan was going to do this?”

“No…” Phil chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought through all of the conversations him and Dan had had about their public image. “He made it sound like he didn’t want to come out at all.”

“What changed?”

“I don’t know,” Phil responded tersely.

He should know.

“Do you think he wants people to know that you’re the guy?” PJ pushed.

“I don’t know!” Phil snapped

He really should know.

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line.“Sorry,” PJ muttered, clearing his voice before he spoke again. “What do you want?”

“I… don’t know,” Phil finished lamely.

Turns out he didn’t know much of anything.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” PJ offered softly.

“I…” Phil tried to think about it, he really did, but his mind kept coming back to why why why. At the end of their date, Dan had pulled Phil into the bloody loo to kiss goodnight, presumably because Dan hadn’t wanted the waitstaff to see, and then just a few hours later, Dan had gone and done that. “I need to talk to Dan. To know what the fuck happened.”

“That’s fair,” PJ agreed. “Can I do anything to help?”

“No, I’m just… gonna call him.” Phil pushed his glasses onto his head and roughly rubbed his face — an attempt to both wake up and alleviate some stress. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Ring if you need me, okay? And let me know how it goes.”

“I will. I’ll text you later,” Phil promised. “Bye Peej.”

Needing to cancel his ten o’clock meeting with his manager, Phil opened his work email to send off some excuse, only to find that Marianne had already emailed him. Along with three people from the BBC. And every single subject line contained the name Daniel Howell.

How the hell had all of these people been up and about and reacting to social media already?

Phil ignored the multiple emails from the BBC, but opened the one from Marianne. He skimmed through the message, where she basically just pointed out what he already knew — that his audience had drawn some pretty big conclusions based on something Dan had posted. At the end of her email, she suggested they “review possible responses” during their meeting that morning.

Not fucking likely, Phil scoffed.

Quickly, Phil typed out the most adult version of sorry for the late notice, but I need to cancel our meeting because my brand-new boyfriend went off the walls in the middle of the night and I have no idea what’s happening. He didn’t bother to read it over again — now wasn’t the moment for proofreading — and immediately dialed Dan as soon as the email was sent.

The phone didn’t ring though, and instead went straight to voicemail. “Dammit Dan,” Phil mumbled in aggravation, hanging up before Dan’s voicemail could start recording.

Chewing on his lower lip, Phil thought through his options. If Dan’s phone was off, then no amount of texting or calling or facetiming would do any good. It was frustrating to have no way to contact Dan after he’d dropped such a massive bomb.

Except, well, that wasn’t quite true, was it?

Dan had put Phil on his permanent visitors list, so theoretically Phil could just… show up. Which might be a bit of a rash move but…

But nothing.

Phil was confused and caught off guard and felt like he deserved an explanation. Despite the early hour, Phil threw off his blue and green check comforter and pushed himself out of bed with steadfast resolution.

He wanted an explanation and, goddammit he’d get an explanation.

On shaky, tired feet, Phil riffled through his drawers for suitable trousers while kicking off his emoji pajamas. No human being — especially not his fashiony, hot new boyfriend — needed to see him in those. The first somewhat acceptable option Phil’s hand landed on were a pair of rather tight joggers, but he couldn’t be arsed to care at that moment. They’d have to do.

He kicked all the way out of his embarrassing, yellow pajamas and pulled on the tight sweatpants in their place. His loose Friends shirt would have to do, because he didn’t feel like wasting the time to find a suitable replacement, and it wasn’t that awful of a shirt.

Phil’s hair was probably a right mess too, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with that either at the moment. All in all, this was definitely the least effort he’d ever put into his appearance when he knew he was going to see Dan, but he was growing impatient. Doing anything other than pulling on a jacket and shoes felt like it would waste too much time.

Even the three minute wait for the uber felt like too much time, and Phil had to refrain from just starting to walk over when he got downstairs and the car wasn’t there yet. But the car arrived before Phil could do anything rash, and Phil climbed in with only the briefest of smiles to the driver. His five star rating might take a hit, but he didn’t particularly care at that moment.

On the drive to Dan’s flat, the impatience in Phil’s stomach grew into something… more desperate. The more time he spent longing for an answer, the more he felt like he should already have one — like he should have known about what Dan was doing before he’d done it. And of course, of course, it was Dan’s decision if he wanted to come out — and hell, Phil was downright ecstatic for him — but Phil couldn’t help feeling like…

Feeling like he should have been part of the decision if Dan was going to so nearly pull Phil out of the closet, too.

Not that Phil was hiding in the closet, persay. But as PJ had pointed out, there was a big difference between hinting and confirming, and what Dan had just done was suddenly pushing Phil to confirm. And that Phil couldn’t quite wrap his head around.

He wasn’t against it. Not quite. But — fuck. He really would have liked to have been a part of the decision.

The process of getting into Dan’s building was the easiest yet, this time. All Phil had to do was tell the doorman his name and that he was there to see Dan before he was getting ushered into the lift, the seven button already pressed for him.

The ride up to Dan’s apartment felt shorter than normal — so short that Phil didn’t have time to collect his courage and figure out exactly what he wanted to say. When the doors opened to Dan’s flat, Phil hovered uncertainly in the lift, suddenly worried that it was incredibly rude to just invite himself over to Dan’s flat. Maybe Dan’s phone had gone straight to voicemail because he’d turned it off so he could sleep. Maybe Dan wasn’t ready to tell Phil about what he’d done.

But no, that wasn’t quite right. Dan had texted Phil, had told Phil to look at his instagram and had even said that they needed to talk. So it wasn’t absurd that he was here, now.

The lift doors started closing, the sudden movement pulling Phil harshly out of his spiral of anxious thoughts. Phil’s body, for once, was a step ahead of his mind, because his arm flew out to catch the door before he processed what was happening. He hurried out of the lift and into the foyer before the door could start to close again.

Dan had put Phil on his permanent visitors list. This was fine. It wasn’t insane that Phil was here right now.

Determined, Phil pushed his way further into the flat, walking quietly towards Dan’s room. He only made it as far as the lounge, though, before he ran smack into someone.

Someone much shorter than him or Dan.

“Phil?”

Surprised, Phil’s eyes scanned down and he took in the young woman standing in front of him — he certainly hadn’t been expecting anyone else to be here, and now he really was feeling like just coming over might have been a dick move.

“Louise?” he asked tentatively, nearly positive that he recognized her from Dan’s instagram and pictures he’d shown him of Darcy and her mum.

“Yes!” Louise greeted, her voice hushed. “I’m glad it’s you, when I heard the lift ding I thought —” She cut herself off, glancing back over her shoulder into the lounge. “Well, nevermind. Tea?”

“Oh, er…” Phil glanced over her head, his eyes drifting back towards Dan’s room. As much as he knew that Louise was definitely someone that he should be trying to make a good impression on, Phil really didn’t want to sit down for a cuppa right now. His mind was still reeling from the whirlwind of this morning, and he could barely think straight, much less talk coherently to a stranger.

But regardless, he knew how important Louise was to Dan — and how much Louise’s opinion mattered to him — so Phil pushed back the swirling confusion muddling his head and forced himself to smile pleasantly. “I might just look for Dan if you don’t mind.” Anxiously, Phil rubbed the back of his neck and hoped that his smile wasn’t coming out too much like a grimace.

Louise’s eyes flicked behind her. Her tense shoulders and skeptical eyes gave Phil the feeling that she wasn’t sure if him seeking Dan out was a good idea. “He’s asleep at the moment,” she said, pursing her lips and staring at Phil thoughtfully, like she was trying to figure him out. “You sure I can’t interest you in tea? He’ll probably be asleep a while.”

“I…” Phil’s eyes darted around as he searched for an excuse out of socializing. Much to his dismay, he couldn’t easily find one. He opened and closed his mouth as he desperately tried to find a polite way out of making small talk with Louise — this certainly wasn’t the first impression he wanted to make on Dan’s best friend.

“I’m not really up for tea, right now,” Phil blurted out abruptly, settling on the truth and cringing at his bluntness. Phil shifted his gaze down to his feet, unable to continue meeting her eye. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “This morning’s just been a lot already, and…”

Louise sighed, and shot Phil an unsure look. Phil watched as her arms came up, and she crossed them over her chest. “Dan had a late night last night.”

“I know,” Phil admitted, anxiously shifting back and forth on his feet. “But I need to talk to him.”

“And you can wait until he wakes up,” Louise said with an air of finality, her arms still crossed in front of her.

Phil sighed and tugged on his sloppy quiff, aggravated — not quite at Louise, just more at… the situation in general. His phone felt heavy in his pocket, and he was hyper aware of all of the emails and texts that he needed to respond to.

Emails and texts that he didn’t know how to respond to because Dan hadn’t fucking talked to him.

“Look,” Phil said, keeping his voice as steady and calm as he could. “I kind of woke up to a PR nightmare this morning and —”

“Oh god, are you not out?” Louise interrupted, her eyes growing wide in panic.

“I — mostly,” Phil hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. The being out thing wasn’t exactly his main problem here. “Never in crystal clear words, but it was out there.” Phil shrugged that particular concern off. “But, like, I hadn’t told my manager — or even my mum — that I was dating Dan yet, and now they definitely both know because they aren’t idiots.” Phil gestured around wildly, his arms trying to convey how absolutely insane the situation was so that he didn’t end up shouting, despite his frustration. “I’m not sure who’s going to be more upset about not knowing. And I can’t even respond to them, because I have no idea what to say because I have no idea what the fuck happened. We haven’t even discussed if we want our relationship to be public or how to handle the media or anything!”

Phil’s arms fell to his sides, limp and useless, as his rant came to a sudden, frustrated end.

His little tantrum must have done some good, though, because Louise looked a bit more empathetic now.

“I get it,” she sighed, sounding resigned. “I’m a manager. And a mum.”

“Thanks,” Phil smiled tersely. “So then you won’t mind if I…?” he gestured vaguely over Louise’s shoulder.

Her eyes traced over him slowly, carefully appraising him. “Fine,” she relented after a minute. “Just… try not to be too hard on him, okay? I’m sure he’ll be in a touchy mood when he wakes up.” Despite her understanding words, Louise still looked wary.

Phil wondered how many stories of hot-tempered, passionate fights Louise had heard over the last year.

“I promise I won’t be a — I won’t be like Isabella,” Phil offered, hoping that the heavy, sincere weight of his voice would convince Louise that he was different.

Louise’s eyes grew wide, her jaw falling open just a hair — she looked surprised, but maybe also a bit… pleased? The tenseness in her shoulders melted — at least some — and she looked less wary. The assurance that not only he knew about Isabella, but was also determined to be different seemed to matter to Louise.

“Good. Because you’ll have me to report to if you hurt him,” Louise threatened, but there was a humorous glint in her eye and a hint of a smile ghosting her lips.

“I won’t hurt him, but that’s a deal.” Phil smiled weakly with an emphatic nod. “So is it okay if I…?” Phil pointed vaguely over Louise’s shoulder, trying to ask her to let him by as gently as possible.

Louise nodded, stepping around Phil towards the foyer. “Yeah, I’m going to nip out then. Tell Dan to text me at some point today, and be nice.”

Phil was tempted to make a sarcastic comment, but didn’t want to risk Louise’s trust. He couldn’t help feeling like he was on a very short leash as it was right now. “I promise I won’t even scream or anything, okay?”

“Good,” Louise said with a smile before heading for the lift. Just before she got to the foyer, she spun around to face Phil again. “Good luck with your mum. And manager.”

“Thanks,” Phil laughed with a genuine smile. “I think I’ll need it.”

Phil waited for the ding of the lift, wanting to make sure Louise was well gone before he sought out Dan, before gathering his courage and carrying on down the hallway. For a split second, he hesitated outside of the closed bedroom door, not completely certain that it was acceptable for him to just burst into Dan’s room and wake him up.

But the memory of the literal thousands of notifications was fresh in Phil’s head, so he pushed open the bedroom door anyway.

The bed, however, was neatly made, and there was no Dan in sight.

Weird. Louise had definitely said that Dan was still asleep. Maybe the guest bedroom?

Confused, Phil stepped backwards and turned back down the hallway, peeking his head into the next room. No Dan in that bed, either.

Phil couldn’t imagine that Dan would be in the music room, and he wasn’t sure where else to look other than the lounge. Phil made his way back, tentatively looking around the lounge entrance before entering.

Curled up on the sofa, still in his tight studded sweater from the night before, was Dan. Despite Phil’s confusion and anxiety, his heart melted. Dan’s hair — and the entire lounge, now that Phil was really looking — was a complete wreck.

There was glass on the floor, both large chunks and shattered shards, that Phil had to navigate around on his way to the sofa. The table — which Phil was accustomed to seeing in a pristine state — was covered in papers and — oh god was that the lube? — on one end. Dan’s notebook was open on the floor, surrounded by a hodge podge of markers. Phil had to bite back the urge to flip through it, to see what else Dan was working on, to pry just a little.

That wasn’t what was important right now, though. Phil turned his back on the mess and properly took in Dan’s lanky body curled up tight on the sofa.

Looking more carefully, Phil’s eyes lingered on where Dan’s trousers were riding down, a soft pale patch of stomach poking out. Dan’s hands were cradled near his face, and his phone was dangling from his fingertips. Phil hovered above Dan, rocking back and forth between his feet as he tried to decide if he really should wake Dan up.

Phil knew Dan had been up late — close to four, at least, and that was assuming he’d gone to sleep straight after texting Phil. Letting Dan sleep a little longer was definitely the nice, selfless thing to do.

But Phil was too anxious and desperate for answers to be selfless right now.

Before Phil could lose his nerve, he reached out and poked Dan’s shoulder.

The poke, however, didn’t seem to be enough to rouse Dan from his sleep. “Dan?” Phil tried, his fingers rubbing into Dan’s bicep a bit harder. “Babe? Wake up?”

“Mmmh,” Dan grumbled. Even in his sleep, Dan seemed reluctant to be roused.

“Please babe? I really need to talk to you,” Phil pleaded. He switched tactics and grabbed ahold of Dan’s shoulder, gently shaking until Dan started stirring.

“Louise?” Dan mumbled, nearly incoherent, without opening his eyes. “Wha’ d’ya want?”

“No, it’s Phil,” Phil corrected.

“Oh.” Dan’s eyes fluttered open, slowly drifting upwards to meet Phil’s.

They were red. Much redder than they normally were when Dan woke up.

The rawness of Dan’s eyes, and the way he rubbed at them, made Phil wonder just how late of a night Dan and Louise had had.

Blearily, Dan’s gaze fell from Phil’s, scanning the room before landing on his phone. Without saying anything else to Phil, he tapped the home button, only to sigh when it wouldn’t come on. “What time s’it?” Dan asked blearily.

“About eight thirty,” Phil guessed without actually checking a clock.

Dan nodded, his eyes drifting back to his phone. “Hang on,” he said, “Lemme plug this s’in ‘nd get some coffee.” Dan pushed up off the sofa, stretching slightly and making his sweater ride up even further. “Want some?” he asked, eyes bleary as he glanced at Phil before turning to leave.

Phil’s brows furrowed, bewildered that Dan was so casually offering him coffee.

As if nothing major had happened since they’d last seen each other.

“Wait—” Phil said as he reached out and caught Dan by the wrist, preventing him from going anywhere. “Are you not even going to acknowledge it?” he asked, annoyance starting to creep into his voice.

Dan raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything.

Phil blinked back rapidly, baffled by Dan’s lack of… well, anything.

“Oh come on, don’t play dumb,” Phil groaned, irritated. Dan’s eyes grew wide and he held Phil’s gaze for a fleeting moment before flickering off to the side. In the brief seconds that Dan had looked at him, Phil could see entire pools of emotions — emotions that he wasn’t quite sure what to make of. There was sleepiness, but there was also worry and… something else.

Something that Phil really wished Dan would just share with him.

“Your texts? Instagram? The internet?” Phil prompted, his voice growing more and more pointed with each suggestion when Dan didn’t say anything.

Dan ran his free hand through his hair, grabbing at the ends of his curls and tugging. His eyes drifted back to Phil’s, and he stepped minutely backwards, his hand nearly coming out of Phil’s grip. “I know, I know,” Dan finally sighed, sounding defeated “I just really need some fucking coffee first. I had a long night.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a long morning,” Phil countered; his fingers wrapped more tightly around Dan’s arm, his nails insistently digging into the soft underside of Dan’s wrist.

Dan flinched back, his hand yanking backwards out of Phil’s grip and curling protectively against his chest. “I suppose that’s my doing, then?” he asked meekly as he stared down at the space between them.

Phil shot Dan an unamused look, not that Dan was looking up to see it. A part of him was itching to reach out and force Dan to look up at him, but Dan didn’t look like he’d be okay with Phil touching him just now. “No, I normally wake up to thousands of notifications after a nice quiet day away from social media,” Phil quipped, unable to keep a sarcastic edge out of his voice.

Dan’s eyes clamped shut, and he drew in a sharp breath. His arms shifted to cross in front of his chest, his entire body crumpling in on itself. “Just… hang on,” Dan begged softly without looking at Phil. He sounded so small, so young. Guilt washed over Phil — he was responsible for making Dan look so vulnerable. “Let me get a cup of coffee. Please.”

Phil drew his hands back to his side, shoving them in the front pockets of his joggers as a silent promise that he wasn’t going to try to stop Dan. “Of course,” he nodded, trying his best to keep his voice soft and even. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

With a small shake of his head, Dan teetered away from Phil cautiously and backed out of the room without ever turning fully away. At the last second, Dan spun around, narrowly avoiding running into the doorframe as he exited the lounge.

It was an odd reaction, one that gave Phil the sense that Dan was afraid to turn his back on Phil. Self-defensive reactions like that weren’t usually natural — they were learned.

Phil swallowed thickly, suddenly wondering how deep Louise’s fears ran. Dan’s movements were shaky, guarded, and he seemed to be fighting the urge to not look over his shoulder. Not wanting to make Dan more uncomfortable, Phil trailed behind at a distance as Dan led the way.

In the kitchen, Dan went straight to start the coffee and Phil came to a rest at the opposite counter. Dan still wasn’t meeting Phil’s eyes — hell, he wasn’t even looking up — but Phil could tell that Dan knew exactly where Phil was by the wide berth he gave Phil’s spot along the counter.

The entire kettle shook when Dan filled it with water; his hands were trembling, but his jaw was set, rigid. “Coffee?” Dan murmured without glancing over.

“Sure,” Phil accepted quietly. He made an effort to keep his voice as soft and gentle as he could. “Milk —”

“And two sugars, same as your tea. I know,” Dan interrupted quietly. If something weren’t so clearly wrong with Dan’s behavior right now, Phil would have been touched that Dan knew how he took his coffee. Instead, Phil was hyper-focused on Dan’s shaky movements and watched carefully as Dan rummaged through the cupboards, finally pulling out a ceramic soup bowl that was nearly mug-like and — oh. Phil had forgotten that Dan only had one functioning mug.

Because Isabella smashed the rest. In a fight. A fight unlike any fight Phil that had ever had.

Regardless, Dan poured milk and sugar into the proper mug, adding only the smallest spoonful of sugar to the makeshift mug. That was so typical Dan — putting others first, always striving to make others happy. Phil’s lips twitched for a second, nearly quirking up into a smile at Dan’s persistent thoughtfulness.

Phil waited in silence for the kettle to boil, knowing that he wasn’t likely to get anything useful out of a sleepy Dan. Plus, he hoped that a bit of quiet — and space — would help calm whatever Dan’s fears were.

It felt like it took the coffee maker ages to brew their coffee. Phil was growing well anxious, and Dan didn’t seem to be in much of a better state. Eventually, though, Dan was pouring two cups of coffee, passing the polka dotted mug to Phil, and hugging the soup bowl close to himself.

Dan took a large gulp of his coffee, only lowering it a few centimeters when he was done. The mug was held up high, nearly obscuring his face, and his gaze was focused on the black liquid inside. Dan’s arms were tucked into his chest, and his shoulders hunched up. Again, Phil was struck by how small Dan looked.

“Well? Let’s hear it then,” Dan whispered without looking up.

“Hear what?” Phil asked, head cocked, confused.

“You’re mad at me, so let’s just… get the part where you yell at me or whatever over with.” Dan’s eyes flicked up, just barely landing on Phil, and looked back at his coffee so quickly that Phil would certainly have missed it if he wasn’t watching Dan so closely.

Phil’s heart plummeted into his stomach as Dan confirmed his dreaded speculations — all of this, all of Dan’s current behavior, had something to do with how fights had gone in the past. Phil opened and closed his mouth, sputtering stupidly like a fish as he tried to figure out what to say.

“I didn’t come over here to yell at you,” Phil tried his best to placate his boyfriend, even though he didn’t really know how. Not right now, not with this new, scared Dan.They’d only had one tiff since meeting, and then it’d blown over because Phil had dropped it. But it wasn’t a lie — no matter how desperate and confused and frustrated Phil was, yelling at Dan was never his intention.

“But you are mad,” Dan said simply, still addressing his coffee more than Phil.

“I’m not mad, I’m… in shock, I guess.” Phil blew on his coffee, stalling for time as he grappled for a way he could express his frustrations without unnecessarily startling Dan.

“Call it whatever you want, but I can tell you’re not happy with me,” Dan mumbled.

“Okay, fine,” Phil relented, swallowing his trepediations and deciding to speak his mind. “I was shocked when I woke up to thousands of messages on my social media talking about you coming out and speculating about us.” Dan nodded — a microscopic, subtle movement — but didn’t say anything, so Phil continued. “And I’ll admit that I was a bit miffed when I realized that Louise was here but you didn’t even try to contact me last night.”

“Louise is my best friend,” Dan pushed back, a hint of anger in his voice.

“And I’m your boyfriend now!” Phil insisted. “In order for a relationship to work, we have to communicate, Dan.”

“You’re not my fucking boss,” Dan barked. “I can talk to whoever the fuck I want to. And if you’ve got a problem with Louise, you can just leave now.” There was a harsh edge to Dan’s voice, but beneath it, Phil could just barely tell that it was shaking — shaking with what, he wasn’t sure. Anger, maybe. Or fear.

“I don’t have a problem with Louise,” Phil argued. “It’s just — I texted you four bloody times last night. You could have talked to me if you needed… I don’t know, help, or whatever.” Phil waved his hand in frustration as his words failed him.

Dan sat his mug down on the counter, a loud clack filling the kitchen as the ceramic made contact with the granite countertop. “Look I just spent a fucking year with someone who didn’t like Louise and hated that I went to her for stuff, and if you’re gonna be that way too, then just fuck off already,” Dan spat out harshly.

If Phil wasn’t already leaning against the opposite counter, he would have jumped back at that. As it was, his lower back dug into the counter as he recoiled from Dan’s words.

“Don’t fucking compare me to Isabella!” Phil snapped, disgust and horror holding tight in his stomach. “I don’t give a rat’s ass that you go to your best friend instead of me sometimes, but when you end up doing something that all but confirms that you and I are dating, yeah, I’d like to be a part of the decision!”

“You can’t control me Phil.” Dan’s shoulders drew up impossibly closer to his ears, his voice growing high pitched. “I can’t take the time to get written permission from you every time I want to say something about my album.”

“And I’m not asking you to!” Phil retaliated. “But couldn’t you have waited, like, a day so that I wasn’t completely blindsided by you basically outing me when I woke up this morning?”

“No,” Dan huffed, an edge of stubbornness cutting into his defiance.

“No?” Phil asked incredulously.

“No,” Dan repeated, his voice even more forceful this time. “You couldn’t have talked me out of it.”

“I wouldn’t have tried to!” Phil exclaimed before he could process what Dan had said — before he could process that Dan seemed to think that Phil would try to control him. In some ways, at least. “I get that given… your album…” Phil trailed off as he grappled for the right words, words that would capture how Dan’s album affected Phil’s life without him sounding ungrateful or overly important.

He took a deep breath before continuing. “I get that your album is going to take away some of the privacy and control over my image that I’m used to having online, and that’s fine. But couldn’t this have waited, like, a day so that we could talk about it first? And I could… I don’t know, tell my family we were properly dating first?”

Dan shook his head forcefully, his curls flopping down into his face. “You don’t understand Phil. There wasn’t time. It had to be now.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” Phil huffed, his free hand lacing through his hair and pushing it further back.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Dan snapped, his arms crossing hotly in front of his chest.

“I’m sure I would if you would stop being defensive for five seconds and actually explained yourself!” The words flew out of Phil’s mouth before he realized what he was saying. They were harsh, yes, but they were true. It felt like all Dan was doing this morning was be overly contrary for no discernible reason, and he wasn’t fucking listening. Phil didn’t want to be angry right now, he really didn’t. It was just hard when Dan was acting like this.

Dan appeared to have heard that, though, if the way he flinched backwards was anything to go by.

“Excuse me?” Dan challenged. He sounded positively outraged, his tone just this side of livid. His shoulders were shaking, and Phil could see anger flaring in his eyes.

And something else, too. Something like… hurt.

Phil put his own mug down on the counter, dragging his hands down his face in exasperation. This wasn’t the conversation — well, fight, at this rate — that he’d come over here to have this morning. Phil hadn’t been wanting to argue, he’d just wanted to understand.

“I’m just trying to talk to you, Dan,” Phil pleaded, his voice coming out whiny and needy “I just want to know what the hell happened last night.”

“Right,” Dan laughed bitterly. “You want to know all about the part where I almost outed you, but you don’t seem at all concerned about the part where I actually came out.”

“That was your choice!” Phil insisted, voice raised.

“No it wasn’t!” Dan bellowed back.

Phil froze, his eyes snapping up to meet Dan’s again. Dan had pushed off the counter, and crossed almost half of the kitchen. He was standing rigid, his body leaning forward, his hands in tight fists by his sides. Dan’s eyes were blown wide — he looked shocked by his own words.

Phil certainly was.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Phil asked slowly, warily. Something happened last night — something big — that much was clear. What wasn’t clear, though, was why Dan hadn’t called Phil last night.

They could have talked about it. Phil could have helped.

“It means — it means —” Dan stuttered, before abruptly giving up. The tension melted out of Dan’s shoulders as he crumpled in on himself, retreating back to lean against his countertop. “It doesn’t mean anything. Can we just move on?”

“No we can’t bloody move on,” Phil huffed, his frustration growing. He’d passed impatient, passed needing answers; now, he was downright desperate. “Can you just tell me what the fuck you mean, already? What happened last night?”

Phil stared at Dan with pleading eyes, silently begging him to explain what he’d meant. For a moment, Dan just stared back at Phil. A loud silence overtook the room, neither of them saying anything else.

Finally, the tense silence was interrupted by a sharp sigh from Dan. Dan’s gaze fell from Phil’s, turning down to his own feet. An agitated hand ran through Dan’s hair, tugging on his curls.

A brief wave of relief shot through Phil, certain that he was about to get an explanation for Dan’s weird behavior. Phil pushed away from the counter, debating whether he should go to Dan, maybe tip his head up and kiss his forehead. Something small to make Dan feel more comfortable talking.

But then, Dan was crossing the kitchen in three big strides, coming to a halt right in front of Phil. Bewildered, Phil searched Dan’s face, trying to figure out what the hell Dan was doing. Dan’s eyes were wild, frantic, a panicked gleam shimmering in them. His cheeks were flushed red, his mouth drawn in a tight line. He was so, so close, so afraid.

And then he was gone.

Phil blinked rapidly, confused and unsure where Dan had disappeared to. One second he was there, and then poof he was gone.

Unsure, that was, until a sudden waft of cool air washed over his upper thighs.

Phil’s attention snapped down, finding Dan again. Dan’s hands were on Phil’s joggers — joggers that he’d managed to tug down to Phil’s knees before Phil had even realized where Dan had gone. He was still tugging, trying to wrestle them over Phil’s knees now.

“Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan,” Phil gasped, his voice coming out rushed and urgent. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Dan didn’t look up at Phil. Instead, his hands abandoned Phil’s joggers, leaving them wrapped around Phil’s bony knees, and latched onto Phil’s boxers. His hands pulled insistently, frantically — too frantic to be particularly effective, mercifully.

“Dan!” Phil implored. The shock of the situation finally wore off, and Phil finally launched into motion, his hands flying out to catch Dan’s and prying them away from his hips. His boxers were awkwardly a bit low now, but Phil didn’t risk letting go of Dan’s hands — Phil was worried that Dan would just reach back to pull them all the way over his arse. “Look at me!” Phil ordered forcefully.

Slowly, painfully, Dan’s eyes drifted up and came to rest somewhere around Phil’s neck.

Phil took a deep breath, calming himself down, before he hooked his fingers under Dan’s chin and coaxed his head the rest of the way up. “Dan, sweetheart, what are you doing?” Phil asked, careful to keep a gentle tone to his voice now that he had Dan’s attention.

“Making the fight go away,” Dan responded. His voice was small — so, so small — and he still wasn’t quite meeting Phil’s gaze.

Phil stared blankly, his eyes trailing over Dan’s scared face, as he tried to figure out what was happening.

Suddenly, Phil was assaulted with the image of Dan covered in hickeys and scratches, embarrassed and ashamed as he admitted to Phil that they were from angry sex — angry sex that came from a fight.

Phil’s jaw dropped.

It didn’t shock Phil to know that Dan and Isabella dealt with their problems through sex, but he was a bit astonished to find the effects so lasting, to realize that Dan still seemed to think that angry sex was the proper solution to an argument, even with Phil.

Phil shook his head forcefully — both in attempt to tell Dan no, and also to shake himself out of his head and into action.

“Babe,” Phil whispered. Looking down at Dan’s vulnerable, submissive stance, Phil felt his heart breaking. Desperate to make them feel like equals again, Phil sunk down to his knees, too. He let go of Dan’s wrists, reaching up to brush back his unruly curls from his face. “Blowing me isn’t going to make the fight go away,” he whispered softly..

“Oh,” Dan muttered, voice small. His eyes trailed down between them. Phil couldn’t see his expression, but his body language spoke volumes. “It’s well and truly fucked then, huh?”

Dan sounded so scared, so distraught, that Phil wasn’t sure what to say for a moment. Dan sounded like he genuinely believed that it — they — must be fucked if a blowjob wasn’t going to fix their fight.

Phil’s shock turned to horror when he saw tears leak down Dan’s face.

“Oh, baby. No, no,” Phil cooed. His hands flew from Dan’s hair to cup his cheeks, his thumbs swiping under Dan’s eyes and smearing the tears away. “No, nothing’s fucked baby.”

Slowly, Dan tilted his head up to look at Phil. “It’s — it’s not?” he hiccupped, his voice coming out higher and more crackly than normal.

“Of course not,” Phil promised, rushed and confident. His eyes were wide in horror at the very idea of them, this, their relationship, being over so soon. His brows were furrowed in confusion at the idea of Dan being concerned that this was over — that they were over. “But the way to make the fight go away is to tell me what’s going on, tell me what you’re thinking.”

Dan sniffled loudly, his eyes fluttering closed again. He was quiet for a moment, with the exception of a few residual hiccups, but then he nodded slowly, his eyes still closed.

“Yeah? You’ll talk to me this time?” Phil asked hopefully.

Dan nodded again.

“Without getting defensive?” Phil prompted, half teasing, half trying to encourage Dan to act more rationally this time.

“Yeah,” Dan agreed meekly. He fell forward, Phil’s arms wrapping around and catching him on instinct. The second Phil’s arms were around Dan, Dan burrowed into him, melting against his chest. Dan’s hands were smushed between them, crooked at an awkward angle, but Phil didn’t mind.

Silence settled between them as Dan calmed down. Slowly, gently, Phil started tracing his fingers up and down Dan’s spine, his fingers catching on the studs of Dan’s sweater.

After a moment, Dan mumbled, “Can we sit down?”

Phil pulled back and pressed a lingering kiss to Dan’s forehead. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

Dan minutely leaned into Phil’s lips, pushing his head into the kiss for a moment before pulling back. He pushed up to his feet, and immediately offered Phil a hand up. Dan’s gaze trailed over Phil as he climbed off the floor; Phil felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment as he remembered the state of his clothing.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Dan muttered, his eyes meaningfully flicking down to Phil’s half drawn joggers.

“It’s okay,” Phil murmured back softly as he stood up with Dan’s help. Phil’s spare hand flew to his joggers, pulling them back up his hips as he stood. He tried his best to swallow down his embarrassment, to make his cheeks go back to a pale white; he didn’t want to call any more attention to Dan’s rash advances than necessary. Not right now.

For the first time that morning, Phil was thankful that he’d only been able to find the tight joggers that morning — anything looser would likely have slipped straight down Phil’s thin legs and likely made the whole situation more awkward.

Dan dropped Phil’s hand to turn and collect their coffees from their respective countertops while Phil fixed his pants and joggers,. “Come on,” Dan muttered, cocking his head out of the room.

Phil obediently followed Dan out the kitchen and towards the lounge, nearly smashing into him when Dan came to a sudden halt in the middle of the hallway.

“What?” Phil asked, alarmed.

Dan spun around to face Phil. “I don’t wanna be in the lounge.” His words came out rushed, his voice high. “It’s a mess.”

“I don’t mind,” Phil assured him, “But we can go wherever you want.” Phil stepped backwards, moving closer to the wall so that Dan could navigate around him and lead them somewhere else.

“I need something from in there, though,” Dan insisted; his words were vague, but his tone was determined. He thrusted their coffees at Phil without much more of an explanation. Phil grabbed the coffees in silent shock, his fingers barely wrapping around the mugs and steadying them before Dan let go.

“I’ll meet you in the bed,” Dan said with a note of finality.

Dan only made it a few paces down the hallway before he stopped and spun back around to face Phil. “If that’s okay, I mean,” he said quickly, his voice high and rushed. “It’ll be more comfortable than the music room and I swear I won’t, like, try anything again. Like, I promise I’ll talk, I’m just really tired and I —”

“Dan,” Phil interrupted gently. “The bed’s fine. Get whatever you need. I’ll be there waiting for you.”

[isasodas]

( amanda arcuri | she/her | demigirl ) hey, you hear wannabe by why mona playing over on the 1st floor? that’s where isa sosa lives! i heard they moved in from red cloud, nebraska exactly four days ago. they’re very intuitive but also pretty blunt. maybe that’s why davie keeps calling them the occultist. starlit is full of people, but this twenty year old is really going to liven things up around here! ( nomi | twenty one | she/her | est )

ayo everybody it’s ya girl nomi coming at you a second time with my chaotic bby isa! i love her and i rarely get the chance to play her so i’m honestly hype. down bellow is the nitty gritty about her! please give this post a like and i’ll slide into your dms, but tbh i’ll probably do that anyways skjdsjk

SHORT BIO isa’s actual bio is long as hell and also in a really weird format idk why I did that to myself but anyways here is the short form

isa lived in a small town in nebraska pretty much all her life. she was raised by her (horrible, neglectful) mother alone until she was six and her mother abandoned her. she was then taken by the police and given to her grandmother because her father has never been in the picture

her aunts and grandma literally never knew who this man (her father) was either??? like literally no one knew who he was and everyone was honestly convinced that even isa’s mom didn’t know for sure either if you know what i mean like? isa still doesn’t know who this man is until this day and tbh she doesn’t really care

isa was taken in by her grandmother (gemini or gem for short) and aunts ( persephone and venus) and pretty much raised by the three women above their family shop 

the sosa’s owned a fortune telling shop that also sold new age merchandise like crystals and talismans etc. isa actually comes from a family of ‘psychics’ (like her aunts are fortune tellers, her grandma was one, her great grandma was one, etc. the only one who really broke the pattern was isa’s mother) so she was always kinda surrounded by weird things and told weird things.

she worked front desk at her family shop since she was about six and would honestly probably still be working there if she didn’t move. was the worlds worst receptionist for years. 

anyways isa was bullied pretty heavily during school when she was younger because she was different. she didn’t really act or dress like the other kids did so they picked on her until isa basically put a stop to that by pretending to cast a spell on a girl who was bullying her. she used pigs blood that her grandmother helped her get from the butcher (her grandmother actually helped her come up with the fake spell if that tells you anything about their family) and some really impressive acting for an eight year old in her little performance so yeah people left her alone after that pretty much for the rest of her school career. she probably traumatised that little girl a bit too big rip

so yeah isa never really had many friends through school, a bit of a social pariah, you know how it goes uNTIL she left nebraska and made some of her closest friends, but i am waiting for said friends before i write up how she met all of them!

before finding her little crew isa’s closest confidant was actually her grandmother growing up. isa still calls her often to let her know what she’s up too. she’s one of the few people who completely understands isa in and out

isa ended up leaving nebraska for art school on a scholarship she never in her wildest dreams imagined she’d get. while she was in art school she was working as a personal assistant for a billionaire art curator who was a dick tbbh i’m not going to even lie. he was horrible to isa and everyone else, cheated people out of their money, stole art, took from charities, the whole lot of it so isa started a plot with some of her friends to rob the asshole blind, and that’s exactly what they did. now they’re here at starlit a few million dollars richer and trying to lay low. isa honestly is no stranger to stealing, honestly she’s a bit of a klepto, but this is the biggest robbery she’s ever done. she’s not particularly nervous about getting caught because they did cover their tracks really well so she’s kind of treating this like a little vacation even though she shouldn’t smh

CLIFFNOTES

born io salma sosa (yes she was named after the moon)! has gone by isa since her aunt gave her the nickname as a kid though. uses she/her pronouns although she doesn’t fully identify as a girl.

Isa true love is art. you can pretty much consistently catch her doodling. 

Speaking of doodling, lets talk about doodling on things you shouldn’t (what a smooth transition amiright), Isa is lowkey a graffiti artist. She’s one of those people who thinks that art shouldn’t be contained and that it should be free, so she tends to spray paint and draw everywhere. She has yet to get caught but not from lack of trying on the police’s part. Isa tends to cause a fuss wherever she goes with her graffiti considering that Isa’s art tends to be creepy to say the least (she tends to go for the gory and freaky over the pretty) and people tend to take pictures of it, put it on instagram and twitter and the like. Isa’s actually made quite a name for herself in the online community, with people commenting on her art and discussing it (kind of like banksy but nowhere near as big). They tend to refer to her by a few different names (scythe, tweek, creep, etc) and they have really yet to decide on one. Isa, being the troll she is, occassionally joins the online debates for fun (if you were wondering, Creep is her favourite)

Like I said, Isa is a bit of kleptomaniac (she used to steal out of necessity, and she still kind of does when necesarry (although she won’t have to as much now considering she’s Rich), but sometimes she also does it for fun), and she doesn’t actually have the healthiest relationship with her emotions (which is what tends to happen when you know, trauma happens) but like catch this girl at therapy over her Cold Dead Body, she’ll die before talking about her feelings she really will

Like I said earlier, the Sosa family are psychics and sell new age retail (you name it they have it and they’ll at least try to con you into buying it.) that said, honestly, they aren’t real psychics. One of Isa’s aunts knows she isn’t and has gone full con artist with the whole thing, and the other thinks she can really see and sense the future which is just a whole other thing but ANYWAY isa is kind of in between them. she doesn’t fully believe in everything but she will charge you a twenty to read your aura yk

apparently chaotic evil according to a test i did one time so there’s that. also an aquarius

has the emotional range of captain holt but like if captain holt was a tiny latina yk

also only 4″11?? not even five foot?? amanda arcuri is tiny af y’all

fun facts: loves aliens, is bi as hell, is also a vegan, very liberal as you might guess, has picnics in cemeteries and might lowkey seem kind of emotionless but i promise she wants to be your friend so please hmu if you wanna plot, although knowing me i might just hit you up first

WANTED CONNECTIONS ;

exes (maybe a past hookup that’s kind of like a ?? what are you doing here situation? also maybe even a full on we dated and broke up what are you doing here situation. i haven’t settled on where isa lived after nebraska and prior to living here so this is open to everybody because isadora sosa (not her name but dfmdf) is bi as hell send tweet

a Muse (someone who  isa kind of makes isa itch for a pen yk? isa could be secretly drawing them from afar while she’s bored at the hotel.)

party friend (isa likes to party a lot more than most would expect so if anyone wants to get high and host parties in the hotel room with isa or even go out dancing with her she’s down) cliff, abba

enemies (someone who hates isa that isa is just kind of ??? about because isa doesn’t understand conflict a lot of the time tbh)

someone for isa to influence i guess?? isa kind of tends to be on the morally grey side a lot of the time sO KJDJKD if anyone wants to allow isa to drag their muse into some shady situations step right up elsie

partner in crime (isa’s already got her girls but i figure this person specifically will sneak out of the hotel with isa at night and help her tag maybe? maybe this person is a fan of isa’s online graffiti personality?? idk i feel like this could be fun) malia

fwbs, neighbours, and anything else under the sun i’m hype.

[passionandpurposeblog-blog]

Sexuality: No More to say and so over it

A few months after my long term girlfriend and I split up, I ended up in bed with Phillip, A nice guy that I’d known for some time. During the post-sex talk, he turns and asks “So does that mean you’re straight now?” 

“LMFAO” 

‘You’ve got a nice cock and I had a great orgasm, …..but you haven’t awoken anything in me that wasn’t already there. You cannot ‘make’ me straight and no one forced me to fuck you’ 

Infact, No one else would sexually awaken anything in me. Not the next guy after Phil, or the guy after that guy, or the girl after the guy after Phil. The list goes on and the list started waaaay back into my early teens. I've always been open, I was experimenting with drugs and people at a young age, I had a threesome with a guy and a girl when I was just 18. When I look back, I must admit that was very young for such an experience, but I just went with the flow. I don’t regret it, but I wish I had done it at a later age to really make the most of it and have the emotional maturity that you need to go with it. 

I’ve been listening to an interview with Kate Pierson (B52’s) and she has recently married her long term partner, a woman that she has dated for 15 years. She said that she had always dated men, and was even married before and that this lady came along and bang she was in love, just like that. Kate Pierson is now 71, So this is her 55-year-old self experiencing a major transition and shift in her life. Whilst trawling through the B52s back catalog online I read so many comments from random fans. ‘She's a lesbian’ ‘I never knew’ ‘But she was married to so and so’ and this is exactly the snooze fest that I am writing about today. Yawn...... If she spent 40 years with different men and now met a woman, perhaps shes just er just bisexual? And more importantly, shouldn’t we be interested in the music and her voice? As much as I love her, when all is said and done I don’t really want to think about the bedroom antics of a 71-year-old yknow.  

What is it with the labels?  

It’s like no one is comfortable until they know exactly which box you belong in, and if you stray from that box then their tiny minds scramble and system overload occurs. ‘ANNOUNCE YOURSELF AT ONCE’ ‘What are you?’ and ‘Don’t you dare have options or change, it doesn’t fit with the label I’ve prescribed you’.  

Before we label Kate a lesbian, how about we mention that she’s a brilliant talented vocalist with over 40 years in the band? Or is that how we are defining her now ‘The lesbian’?. *Insert laughing emoji here* 

“Bisexuals always get dumped on,” says Cynthia Nixon from Sex in the City...The Media has too labeled her a lesbian when much like Kate Pierson, she was in fact with men and entered into this new world later on in her life. It’s like now we must erase her whole previous life and deny that any man has ever come close to her! How dare she now turnaround and say she's’ attracted to men! How fucking dare she, she’s lesbian property now and she has no voice! She never said she was anything, You did!   

I thought, ‘I get it! I get You, I just get it’. She’s attracted to people, they may be male or they may be female yet shes being kettled to a place she never asked to be. It really is that simple. Should her current relationship end, nothing stops her going back to men, dating another woman or even staying single. Your past partners do not mean that your future self is set in stone. It’s not difficult to understand really is it?  

But! And there is a But!  

Say Cinthia and her gf/wife did break up and she dated a man. She won’t find it that easy, because of what I call, the whole ‘lesbian fragility’ - Gay women who pride themselves on being with women and only women and god fucking forbid should you show any interest in a guy. Well, You are now damaged goods my girl. A sell-out, banished!....exiled from the pride....like the Lioness in last weeks BBC Planet Earth. How can you and the gay community ever really watch the L Word again together or listen to Ani Difranco in the same way? ‘It’s just not the same’ they’ll whine.  

I’m being serious. There is a reverse discrimination within the gay community! I’ve seen it first hand. I’ve seen a few women in same sex relationships end, then go for a guy and their ‘friends’ no longer feel the same way about them, there’s no time to hang out anymore and she is “too busy with her straight friends”.  

Awwwww did someone emasculate you? 

I’ve never really enjoyed the company of gay women if I'm honest. I always found their friendships forged on sharing of sexual preference rather than common interest, views or hobbies. I usually think their haircuts are shit and they present me with this feeling where they are unsure if they want to fuck me or fight me. Very awkward, not to mention its a very childish and incestuous scene.  

I have seen this so many times with women, either in a same sex or opposite and then switch later on down the line which is what I mean about experience and just understanding those around you. I think a lot of women are on the bi spectrum. Not all, no, but a lot are, and sexuality is fluid.  About three months ago my cock hungry straight friend told me she’d met some woman online and is now having the best sex of her life! Great, wonderful, Whoppie.  So how do I label her? …....‘Err Mary’......... I label her Mary. I can’t really call her cock hungry right now, so I’ll just label her ‘Hungry Mary’. 

One of my oldest friends is gay – full blown lesbian, never been with a guy but totally cool with every bi girl that has. She and I sit on a different part of the spectrum, but she gets it and like myself she gives those around her that mutual respect and safe space to be who they are. If she turned around tomorrow and said she’s dating a guy, I wouldn’t be shocked, not because she has ever indicated that she likes guys, but simply because people change.  

I know three guys that have also experimented with other guys, would identify as straight and two of the three have long term girlfriends and kids. I just think at the time they took the ‘any holes a goal’ attitude and like my younger self, just went with the flow. 

As we age and grow the fuck up, this should be more accepted and we should just allow people to do who and what they want without the questions, especially the silly questions. It’s really mind numbingly boring, not to mention so nosey!? Jeez, get your own life in order. Despite my ramblings, I'm actually a pretty private person.  I just don’t discuss my private life or anyone I’m dating, I have so many transient non-committal interactions with people that I just don’t feel I need to. 

 I’ve been chatting to some people for ages, and I still wouldn’t discuss parts of my life with them. I keep my circle so small, and If we don’t click like that, we don’t click like that. It’s cool, because there is far more to me and far more to you than who we have in our beds right? I cant imagine meeting someone and asking them, “so what are ya?” CRINGE. I’d die. I’ve got some friends that I’ve spoken to for years, we’ve had really great conversations and it’s never occurred to me to stop and ask ‘do you have a partner? Are you gay?’  

The small circle of friends that I have know me, they get me and that’s my safe space.  

I do find some of the questions and statements really annoying, and if I’m honest just plain weird. I have an irritating male friend in that likes to continually remind me that I’m attracted to women, and of course, there is no way that I can be attracted to men, because I’m not attracted to him..... *eye roll* Dick! It’s like me saying to someone, ‘but you said you like mixed raced girls, so why don’t you like me’ it’s really really weird and it makes me feel uncomfortable. Its uncomfortable because he cannot address or acknowledge his own fascination with bisexuality and cannot stop mentioning it every time he sees me? He makes out he is cool and open-minded, yet I seem to be the topic of convo or butt of his jokes. Address your homophobia or your weird unrequited sexualisation of me whatever the issue is. Seek help mate, Your issue not mine. 

I cannot recall being asked what two women do in bed, but I have heard of it being asked to other people. It’s hilarious. I honestly believe that if you are over 25 and cannot work that out then you have a really dull imagination and I’d bet you are not very experienced. Not necessarily in bedding two women at once, but just in experiencing people; hearing their stories, watching porn, understanding their anatomy and physiology. OR You are being a menace and condescending..... I’ve never seen two men at it live, but I’m pretty sure I know how it goes down ;-)  

Sometime ago I spent a fair amount of time at a bdsm sex dungeon helping out an old friend. Id mostly film her sessions, and now and then Id help out by giving some guys the odd little kick in the nuts etc. Boy, I could write a whole new blog on that experience LOL! I saw some things!  

Meeting all the different types of people that came in the dungeon really opened my eyes to the world of sex and sexuality and just what turns people on. You really cannot judge what people are into, and you’d never know. It’s funny, the ‘geezers’ that make the gay jokes about bumming are often the same ones that ask the women to wear strap ons ;-). People have their quirks and their kinks, they just hide it well BELIEVE me. 

I’ve seen a lot and I’m very open and not much phases me, but because I’m not phased, or excited by the gossip or the fascination of it all I'm over it. …....over the labels, the questions, the presumptions, opinions and the basic inability to let people do what they want in peace. So because of this I decided a long time ago that I’m actually over my sexuality and stopped speaking about it  back in my twenties. 

Yawn.  

No one owns me and no one dictates.

I’m not anything, I’m just me in that particular point of time. No path is set and I answer to no one except who’s in my bed. 

Keep your own truth

[asagi-s-garden]

Labels can be important

So several weeks ago I was talking to someone about labels for fictional charectors and arguing about if they're important or not, I argued that some people found them very important to identify with, she argued that they shouldn't be important, but the thing is, it doesn't matter if they should or shouldn't be: They ARE, and until today I didn't know how to verbalize why or why it was under my skin so badly, the argument really upset me because "~no labels~" should probably be the more "correct" answer but ... like... there isn't really a wrong or right to the way people personally feel and identify... and now I know why it bothers me so much when people try to say that labels are never important: Erasure

Now before I go forward let me say: I am totally supportive of anyone who doesn't want to be labelled, good for you!! You're strong and awesome and confident for that! But what I take issue with is people who say that people who DO want to be labelled are wrong, as long as you aren't policing someone else's identity, we're cool

I've always liked girls, I distinctly remember when I was eight sitting down with my mom and having the "What would you do if I was gay?" conversation and asking her if she thought I WAS gay- "Do you like boys?" "Yes" "Then you aren't gay" (P.S. Dear Mom, you definitely weren't wrong) but the thing is .. that's kinda all there was when I was growing up: Straight and gay and a tiny population of ace (both things that my mom introduced me to by the way) Bisexuality though... wasn't really much of a thing

Bisexuality was a phase, a kink, a scandal, it was "~~~Oooooooh Angelina Jolie admits to being bisexual~~~~" like it was this sexually devious thing, that's all the media ever presented it as and there was never an easily accessible bi charector around that wasn't a scandal themselves (you know, The Promiscuous Bi Who Sleeps With Everyone) atleast not on the TV I watched, and I've always watched alot of TV so I was never exactly sheltered, so I spent most of my life going "Sometimes I feel gay and sometimes I feel straight and I don't know what the fuck that means" and it was really frustrating and lead to alot of confusion and annoyance and feelings of not being normal

It wasn't until I was a teenager and got on Tumblr that I even started understanding what bisexuality was, and it took alot of fanfiction and alot of identify-yourself posts and alot of "Hi, if you have these feelings you might be this and that's great, good for you!" posts before it ... really started making sense to me and I GOT it and I decided "Ok this is what I am", and I am so, so, LUCKY, that my mom is the "I'll march in the parades with you" type because if she wasn't then I maybe would still be questioning myself and saying I'm straight (wich, for the record, I never felt comfortable with, but I never knew what else to really call it either)

But, ya' know, here's the thing, I'm not really a sexual person, I'm not really a romantic person, I'm kinda on the grey/demi territory I guess? I'm 23 but have never been on a date- ever, and I'm not really bothered by that, but that can be difficult to cope with when someone is questioning their sexuality- especially a sexuality that isn't very black and white "I like girls and have never liked boys and I'm a romantic person who has already dated three girls"/"I like boys and have never liked girls and I'm a very romantic person who has already dated three boys" type of thing, it can feel kind of like Imposter's Syndrome, feeling like you haven't "earned" the label you call yourself because you haven't dated enough girls or boys or whatever other gender to identify that way, and in a hypersexualized society, it can even feel like you aren't allowed to call yourself X-Sexuality until you've had SEX with a certain number of  X-Gender

This is where identity and the importance of NOT erasing an identity come into play

Because alot of sexualities easily become stereotypes- and that's only if they aren't erased to begin with, using bisexuality as an example, there were, when I was growing up, two types of bisexuals: The Promiscuous Bisexual and The Kinky Bi-Curious, think Katy Perry's "I Kissed A Girl", one of the most famous- if not THE most famous- songs about bisexuality... isn't about bisexuality at all, it's about a kinky exploitative "bi-curious" exploration wile Katy cheats on her boyfreind ("Hope my boyfreind don't mind it") wich just keeps on going with the same nonsense that all bisexuals are hypersexualized and promiscuous and that's using the term "bisexual" very loosely because she admits in the song that she kissed her "just to try it", it wasn't a sexuality, it was an experiment, and to my knowledge (KP fans feel free to correct me if I'm wrong!) Katy has never returned to any kind of bisexuality: It was a phase, just like bisexuality is SO often called

The big reason why people need to see labels in fiction is to help figure out their OWN identities, we NEED to hear charectors say "bisexual" and the fact that, off the top of my head, I can't think of any fictional charectors (who don't fit the "promiscuous experimentation" type) who flat out label themselves bisexual is... very sad, especially since labelling as straight and gay has slowly become more popular lately

Don't get me wrong, it's always AWESOME to have charectors who are bisexual regardless of saying it or not, and sometimes not saying it can express a relationship that transcends sexuality (Will and Hannibal, Apple White and Darling Charming) wich is ESPECIALLY cool, but ... other times it can be really frustrating to see implications that charectors are a certain sexuality without having concrete proof of it- especially given that some examples are ONLY ever implied and not directly stated (an especially big problem in animated genres, be they anime or western cartoons) and media aimed at younger audiences, and wile I 1000000% get why saying an actual *sexuality* is frowned upon with material for kids and even pre-teens because censorship, it's important at times to blatantly say "I like girls instead of boys" or "I like girls and boys", instead of just having little hints like "I'm not interested in boys" or "Oh she's cute isn't she?" or whatever

There are sooooooooooooooooooo many fanfictions out there that handle the idea of sexuality (ALL sexualities) really beautifully, both in coming out and just in casual conversation, little things like wearing the bi flag colors or going "Excuse you I'm bi" or making an "I'm pan because I like all the cookware in the kitchen ;)" joke can be so helpfull to people who are exploring their sexualities, but fanfiction isn't easily available for tons of people- and most don't even know what it IS, wich is why it's up to mainstream media to take the step and make these things clear THEMSELVES

Anyway I said at the beginning I finally understood how to verbalize this and I'm finally going to tell you what it is that brought this to my attention: My mom

I've been openly bi for a few years now and until recently 100% of the bisexual comments have been from me (and if you're straight and *don't* think I constantly make bi jokes oh boy do you need to get some more queer freinds my dude) and my mom has slowly, over the years, gone from short responses like "Ok then" and "Yeah she's really cute" and "Now see if *I* was gay I'd go for *her*" to actually having real conversations about me having a crush on a girl, wanting to marry a girl, telling my dad and my grandmother "She's bi, she might end up with a girl, you need to understand that", but she still has never been *that* into using the term "bisexual" (and for the record I get that, //I// wasn't that sure about the term when I first started getting used to my sexuality either) and then a few days ago she made this corny bi joke, talking about when I was a toddler and went to see my grandfather drive a plane, she went "You know, that was a bi-plane, and you're a bisexual, it's like it was meant to be even back then!" and yeah it's a corny moderately funny joke but it just.... really, really hit me with this huge WAVE of validation, like yes, thank you, I *am* bi, this is a thing, I can be this, I can own this, I'm recognized, and it isn't a question anymore, it isn't a debate, it's like saying I have red hair, yep, that sure is some red hair I've got, yep, that sure is a nice bisexuality I have

And it's almost disgustingly simple, I'm 10000% sure she has no idea how much that meant to me because it was a passing comment in a conversation about airports, but it's the first time she ever just dropped my bisexualiy into a casual conversation and it felt SO good, SO validating, it made the Imposter's Syndrome I occasionally feel take a very long walk off of a very short peer

But not everyone has my mom

That's like... BLATANTLY clear from so, SO many people I talk to who's parents aren't accepting of them, not everyone is going to get a mom who talks to them about having a wife or points out girls she thinks are hot or makes bi-plane jokes, and because not everyone has a bi-plane mom- not everyone has family or freinds or anyone in their lives who make them feel validated, or who they're even out to- they NEED fictional charectors to be able to grab onto and go "Yes, this is me, yes, I can identify with them"

We need Korras, Harley Quinns, Jackson Whittemores, Annalise Keatings... and we need celebrities to come out and say the big bad B too, we need Halseys and Lauren Jaugeruis and Angelina Jolies

To all of my non-labelling freinds: Good for you! I am legitimately happy for you that you can feel comfortable without labels and that there are things out there that make you feel validated too! .. But there are still so many people who NEED labels to understand themselves and need to SEE people/charectors using labels in order to identify themselves and I really hope that you understand when we scream "Say 'bisexual' you cowards!" and beg for a cut-and-clear "I am bisexual, the end" statement of some kind, it isn't to erase YOU, it's to give US... *something*

Ideally, the world can have enough people and charectors that are LGBTQ+ that there can be tons who *do* use labels and tons who *don't*, ideally the world will stop being so blatantly idiotic with their insistence on erasure and refusal to accept non-straight sexualities, but no matter if that happens or not, I hope that there can be an understanding on BOTH levels, that some people DO need labels and that's ok, and some people DON'T need labels and that's also ok

I hope that everyone can embrace the charectors who don't have labels, AND the charectors who do, and understand WHY certain charectors are important to certain people, and WHY some people are so desperate to get clear, black-and-white identification, not to shun people who don't need labels, but to recognize someone like them, to identify themselves, and to feel validated

[scarlettsmiles28]

A Bisexual Coming Out Story

I was confused about wanting to post this. Ba dum tss.

With Bisexual Visibility Day sometime next month, I wanted to make this post.

No one on here has ever known me any different from being out and proud, but it's been a trip to get here. It took some interesting stories for me to be true about it, especially to myself.

And things like Bisexual Pride and Bisexual Visibility are exactly what gave me the strength to be authentic to myself and not turn back in on myself when I got insecure. That, and my openly queer guy friends paving the way.

A key part of my story: I started dating my ex-boyfriend, "John Doe," at 14. I was 22 when we broke up, nearly eight years later. (Great guy. Great relationship. Just didn't work out.)

Being in a committed, monogamous relationship for so long, it took a long time for me to be authentic to myself.

So. Story of by being bisexual. Starting from the beginning:

I had bisexual tendencies all the way back to middle school. I'd been further with girls than with guys by the time I started high school.

As a freshman, I identified as "heteroromantic bisexual." Sexually attracted to girls, but romantically attracted to only guys. And only told this to very trusted people. I had a girlfriend. For all of three days. I also had a boyfriend for four days who turned out to be gay. So I don't count either of those relationships.

Then I started dating "John Doe" (he's asked that I keep his name private) at the end of my freshman year. He knew I liked girls, and knew about my ex-girlfriend, but there wasn't much more to it than that. We were together, so I never gave much thought to otherwise. I still identified as "heteroromantic bisexual," and still only told very trusted friends, up through my first two years of college.

I was worried about being judged. And "How do you know you're bi if you've always been with a guy?" And "you're just confused." Let alone the fetishising of bisexual women. I was at a place that I wasn't confident in myself and my identity nor secure enough to handle the people closest to me questioning me.

And I was drunk most times that I mentioned being any type of queer. That's what it took for me to feel comfortable enough to say anything. To others, it looked like it was just the booze talking.

The turning point of things was when... Well. It's actually a funny story. Because yes, it involved booze.

I had a party at my house. Four couples, including me and John. I don't remember how everything came up and went down. But. It ended up with a four girl makeout orgy on my couch. The next day I told myself, "I liked that too much. I can't keep denying this to myself."

I had struggled so much with my identity and felt so unsure. I had rejected the idea of being bi because I was worried about dealing with it.

After that night, I decided I couldn't keep denying it, so I let myself start considering if I was actually bisexual. Once I let myself start thinking that way, I felt better, so I knew I was on the right track and correct. Plus, I considered myself an ally to the LGBT+ community. If I was so okay with others being queer, why would I care if I was?

John took it exactly as well as could be expected from someone who'd been in this relationship for over five years. A five minute adjustment period and one or two questions later and we were all set. His biggest concern was me wanting to come out. That took a day or two, literally, for us to get on the same page. He didn't understand the reasoning. I had already been with him so long, it was kinda like "So what. It's not like you're looking to date anyone else, so why is it important for people to know." (This was two years before our breakup.)

I pointed out that it was important to me and part of me living more authentically. And that made sense to him. We were both worried about judgment from families, from his and my own. My mindset came down to: I'm the same person I always was. They don't like it? Well. Fuck them.

It took him a day or two literally to adjust to there. He came to much of the same thoughts I did. This was important to me, and who I was. And he was an ally and safe person to the queer community, so why should it matter if his girlfriend is bisexual and out. And that anyone who cared could fuck themselves.

Continuing on with this narrative, I might have some dates wrong/out of order. But here it is to the best of my memory:

I found myself getting more and more anxious about my identity. I was out to myself, but still in the closet.

And this was SO weird to me. I'm usually so confident in who I am and such a confident person overall. But, I was hiding this part of myself and being mindful to not slip up and say something that would give me away.

I remember seeing the Pulse Nightclub Shooting. That was shortly after I had come out to myself and closest friends, within a week of that makeout orgy. I remember thinking to myself. "I'm part of this group. I'm part of the LGBT+ community. These are my people. This is my community. And it's been attacked." That was June.

On National Coming Out Day in October, I saw three of my guy friends post about being bisexual. I was proud of them. I wanted to be out like them, but I wasn't ready for that. But I had begun being open and out when talking to people in personal conversation.

The first person I came out to, outside of my friend circle, actually was my middle school English teacher. I'd stayed close with her over the years after going to her back in middle school about problems at home. It came up in conversation talking about her "adopted brother," because that's what she had to call her brother in law at the time I had her as a teacher. Upon telling her I was bi, I expected some "you are?" incredulity. But instead I got more of a "yes, times have changed and I'm fascinated by it and glad to see it" type of thing. Not even a patronizing "that's great that you're honest" thing, and I appreciated that.

After that, I felt more confident in talking to anyone about it.

New Years Eve emboldened me, amd I came out then. A new year to start fresh. New year, "new" me.

I haven't looked back since.

I denied my identity to myself for so long, hiding that part of myself, and doing so in spite of my general confidence. And now I'm much more comfortable with myself and have found inner peace.

That comfort and peace has given me the confidence to get through the tough spots in dealing with people.

My ex's mother, whom I greatly respected and looked towards as a maternal figure, told me I wasn't actually bi, but just confused by "damage from my mother". If I hadn't already been publicly out by then, her comments might've scared me back. I'm so glad they didn't.

I thought of telling my mom while she was in Hospice, but I didn't. And I have no regrets over that. According to my dad, she knew, but that would make some of the things she said even worse.

Speaking of my father, who is of the baby boomer generation - he was the last person on my list for me to come out to. Keyword - was. I texted him and came out one night after two bottles of wine. (More of my "getting gay when I drink.") With that, I'm 100% open. Not every single person in my extended family knows, but I'm no longer hiding it from anyone.

It feels IMMENSELY better to be honest about my identity. I didn't realize what a difference it would make to be authentic to myself and the world. Keeping up an emotional lie is exhausting, questioning one's self and watching everything you're saying to not give something away. I promise it's better being proud. ♥️💜💙

[hookhumor67-blog]

The State of Bisexual Representation in Our Pop Culture: 2018 Edition

2018 has been a mixed year for bisexual representation. Shows like The Bisexual and Sally4Ever have focused on female characters exploring their sexuality, but film has mainly shied away from focusing on bi representation. As a medium, television has more storytelling room, so perhaps it is easier to fit in bisexual characters, but film needs to be making the push for more diversity in sexual experiences.

Representation is not arbitrary, and not just a box-ticking exercise, but helps shape and shift perceptions in the real world. This is important for people of any minority, and the statistics show the level of mental health problems that come with being bisexual. Studies have found that “approximately 40 percent of bisexual people have considered or attempted suicide, compared to just over a quarter of gay men and lesbians”. Although representation of gay and lesbian people needs to improve, it is clear that if progress is going to be made in regards to the mental health of bi people, it needs to happen quickly. Bisexual people are not just a small minority, but as a study by the Williams Institute found, in the US, “Among adults who identify as LGB, bisexuals comprise a slight majority (1.8% compared to 1.7% who identify as lesbian or gay)”. This highlights the need for more bisexual representation on screen, especially for men, as they are less likely to identify as such. That is why it is heartening that more shows are including positive depictions of bisexual people.

Bisexuality on screen is not always explicit, not always explained, and there are schools of thought on both sides of the fence. Some people think not uttering bisexuals bisexaul is progressive and others feel it is holding progress back. The same debate is being had in real life, with some bisexual and pansexual people choosing not to label their sexualities, whilst others feel the label is vital if progress is to be made. I personally feel that whatever someone wants to identify as is fine, as long as it is not actively harming anyone in the LGBTQ community. I personally don’t think it hurts the bi community for people to classify themselves as fluid in real life, but I don’t think there has been good enough representation on screen for the label to be discarded in the media. Two of the Main offenders who refuse to audibly call their characters bisexual over the years continued in this vain in 2018. The protagonists in How to Get Away with Murder and Orange is the New Black show bisexual characters but refrain from having them identified as such on screen. There have been many think-pieces about this over the years, but they haven’t forced the shows into making a change. It can be argued that this representation is normalizing bi identities by taking away the dramatic coming out, and by showing them living their lives authentically. It is a nice idea, but only works if enough good representation has already been shown in the media.

An example of not explicitly labelling a character was discussed recently by Tessa Thompson, who starred as bisexual character Valkyrie in last year’s Thor: Ragnarok. She defended her character not explicitly being shown as bi, stating, “I played her as a woman that’s queer. I hope that we get to a space, in terms of the stories that we tell, where that’s something that gets to exist, and it doesn’t have to be noteworthy”. Her defense is well-meaning but the operative phrase in her statement is, “I hope we get to that space”. Thompson is bi and was clear in the promotion for Thor that her character is too, but we are not at a place in society where representation on screen can all follow the progressive mold of not identifying. Although I hope sexualities do not have to be spelled out in the future on screen, for now, it needs to be explicit in order to educate and to normalize.

Looking back at the year of Bisexual film and TV it is best to review them on the representation shown. Does it fall into any of the negative traps laid above? Does it skirt around the issue? Or does it show a happy and healthy character or relationship? Below is the good and the bad of bisexuality in film and TV.

The Good

The Bisexual

Desiree Akhavan burst onto the scene with 2013’s wry Appropriate Behaviour. She finally directed her second feature, the heartwarming and vital gay conversion therapy film, The Miseducation of Cameron Post earlier this year. She followed the success of that film a few months later, with the aptly titled, The Bisexual. The show follows a 30-something American women, who after breaking up with her partner of 10 years (the masterful Maxine Peake) starts to experiment with her sexuality. Under a different showrunner the show could have perpetuated negative stereotypes, but identifying as Bisexual herself, Akhavan allows The Bisexual to upend all negative conventions. She sleeps with men and women, and does, as the show suggests, show the life of a bisexual woman. Funny, smartly-observed and as awkward as her debut feature, The Bisexual is the best example you will find this year, and maybe any year of a bisexual woman just figuring her life out.

Casual

The under watched and underappreciated Casual finished its run on Hulu earlier this year. It was A real gem of the past few years, sharing a tone with Bojack Horseman, with a tenth of the hype. This dramedy took the tired dysfunctional family setting and rejuvenated it bringing the will they/won’t they to the sibling relationship. I could talk about Casual for the rest of the article, but I’ll get focused on the sexuality of the daughter, Laura, played to perfection by Tara Lynne Barr. In previous seasons we witnessed Laura date both men and women, but there was always a sense she was still figuring out her attraction to the latter. That was no longer the case in the final season, as Laura happily dated women, showing no signs of doubt or internalized homophobia. Although she didn’t date a man in the final season, this was an important portrayal, as it busts the myth that being bisexual means you have to date men and women to an equal degree. You could go your whole life without dating either, but still be attracted to both, while still identifying as bisexual. Laura’s attraction to men and women was cemented in the first three seasons, making her happily dating women without renouncing her attraction to men a rarely seen but positive portrayal.

The Bi Life

Billed as a queer equivalent to Love Island, The Bi Life is a dating show where every contestant identifies as bisexual. Whilst not becoming the cultural megahit that Love Island has become in the UK, The Bi Life is a huge step forward in bisexual representation. Airing in the UK, and fronted by Queer drag icon, Courtney Act, the show both normalized and educated the idea of bisexuality. It showed the aching truth of dating when bi, but included 3 to 4 scenes in each episode where the contestants discussed the stereotypes surrounding bisexuality and the effect it can have on family and friends. The Bi Life entertained, educated and ultimately warmed the heart, making it a vital piece of television in 2018.

Dirty Computer

Highlighting the lack of bisexual representation in the film world, I am forced to stretch the definition of film for Dirty Computer, the film accompaniment to Janelle Monae’s album of the same name. Running over 40 minutes and so much more than an extended music video, Dirty Computer is a great piece of feminist, avant garde and importantly, queer film making. Bursting with invention, striking visuals, and a love story at its core, Monae didn’t just make one of the best albums of the year, but also one of the best films.

Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Although Stephanie Beatriz’s character, Rosa Diaz came out on Brooklyn Nine-Nine in 2017, Diaz and Beatriz herself continued spreading positivity this year. Near the end of season five, Diaz found a love interest played by Jane the Virgin’s Gina Rodriguez, and the show continued to treat her sexuality the way it has always treated queer characters; perfectly. The positivity didn’t just end with the show though, and Beatriz has continued to be an advocate for her bisexual identity. After she was accused of picking a side when she married a man, Beatriz explained her sexuality in the most direct way possible, stating, “I’m bi till the day I die”.

Jane the Virgin

Fans of Jane the Virgin had long speculated (and in some cases hoped) that the character Petra was bisexual. The show confirmed this in 2018 when it gave her a love interest in the form of a new character Jane (not the virgin), played by the always brilliant Rosario Dawson. Because Petra dreamt of romancing Jane for so long, the romance was teased over a few episodes. However, once it was confirmed, the couple became a pitch-perfect example of bisexual representation. The show is campy, so the relationship was not without its highs and lows, and going into the next season, it is not clear whether they will continue dating. However, in the time that they were, it was not presented stereotypically in the slightest. Jane the Virgin (which has always been great on queer stories) got this one right.

Crazy-Ex Girlfriend

The underappreciated tour de force that is, Crazy-Ex Girlfriend introduced its third bisexual character in 2018. That’s right, 3 bisexual characters on one show. To show three bisexual characters on one program, without falling into any negative tropes, is really going the extra mile. This normalizes bisexuality and is exactly the kind of representation the community needs. There is not much more to say about this, except for, we love you Rachel Bloom.

Sally4Ever

Sally4Ever, which is still in the middle of its first season is a heightened, absurd story of a woman married to a man, falling for another woman. At times the show plays into stereotypes, but it is nice to see a show that isn’t obsessed with the dramatics of it all, and instead allows the relationship to work in a bizarre world. It plays like an absurd The Bisexual, and is a reminder that representation doesn’t always have to be stale and factual, it can be great fun too.

The Bad

Alex Strangelove

Alex Strangelove is an interesting addition to the bad category, because for the most part, the film is similar to the better-known, Love Simon. It follows a high-school student who comes to grips with his sexuality, finally realizing and accepting that he is gay. The film is funny, sweet, but ultimately standard, diverting romcom fare. The problem, however, is how it shows Alex coming to grips with his sexuality. The film presents bisexuality as a stepping stone, and whether accidentally or not implies that it is a safe middle ground. It can often take many gay people time to truly come to terms with their sexuality, and pondering the idea of their bisexuality is a legitimate step on many people’s journey. Some gay people ultimately suppress their same-sex desires and come out as bisexual before accepting their homosexuality. But the idea that it is a stepping stone can be toxic, as it can imply it is a phase. So, for that reason it is in the bad category, but it hopefully highlights that representation is not always good or bad, but sometimes there is just more that needs to be done.

Bohemian Rhapsody

In the recently released Bohemian Rhapsody, Freddie Mercury, as played by the magnetic Rami Malek, tells his female partner that he is bisexual. She responds, “Freddie you’re gay”. Her response is authentic and a painful reminder to any bisexual man that we are coded as gay if we have any same-sex attraction. For many, getting past the binary straight/gay divide is too much, as they believe bi people must choose. The film does nothing to dissuade the audience that Mercury is in fact gay, and like what often happens, our specific identity is erased. This film did nothing to counter this, and is a continuation of how the film world treats male bisexuality.

Riverdale

Riverdale has not shied away from sexuality and queer storylines in its three seasons on the air, and even included a bisexual character in the first season. Although that character, Moose, is now peripheral as the show continues onto season 3, in the past year audiences were baited, but ultimately let down by a bisexual storyline. Head cheerleader, and all-round ice queen, Cheryl Blossom had shown interest in men early on in the shows run, but started to engage in a same-sex romance in season 2. At its infancy, Madelaine Petsch, who portrays Cheryl stated, “I would say she is bisexual”. Hopes were raised, but after her romance with Toni Topaz was cemented, Petsch changed her tune, confirming that after talks with the showrunner, “Cheryl is a lesbian”. This is a hard blow for bi representation. Not because Cheryl had previously shown interest in men, but because her bisexuality had been publicly confirmed. Stating it publicly, then denouncing it is painful, and stings harder considering Cheryl is dating a great representation of bisexuality on the show, Toni Topaz. The flip-flopping perpetuates the stereotype that bi people need to choose a side, and damages the great representation Riverdale had established with Moose and Topaz.

Bi representation is getting better and despite its flaws, 2018 has been a great year and a great step forward. TV is embracing queer identities more every year, and is finally starting to allow queer characters to live happy lives. Film is failing all queer identities, but its lack of bi representation is shocking, and its lack of meaningful positive representation of queer identities in general is disgraceful. 2018 has been a step in the right direction, but more needs to be done to highlight different voices, and make more people in 2019 comfortable to proclaim, “I’m bi till I die”.

Source: https://filmschoolrejects.com/bisexual-representation-pop-culture-2018/

[entamewitchlulu]

I never ended up drawing that Pride pic of Arc V charas for Pride month, but even though Pride is over I’m gonna make a post about my headcanons for Arc V character sexuality / gender!!

Under a cut because it’s kind of long lol. also this should go without saying but this is all HEADCANON and it also contains a lot of my ship headcanons and you are under no obligation to accept or even like my headcanons; because they’re MY headcanons and they only exist in MY version of the yugioh universe lol

also not every character is here, that doesn’t mean i just think they’re cis and straight it just means i haven’t actually thought about them haha

Yuya: trans boy, panromantic asexual.  he came out as trans when he was like eight, he didn’t get a handle on his sexuality until post-series when he found himself getting crushes on EVERYONE.  a lot of his asexuality has to do with being uncertain about his body, he doesn’t have severe dysphoria but still takes puberty blockers and hormones

Yuzu: cis, bisexual.  She didn’t come out as bi until post-series, and to Yuya only first, while they were dating for a brief period.

Yuto: demiboy, gay.  He didn’t have a word for his gender until he finally broke down while dating Shun because he didn’t know what he was and he felt like he was somehow lying to Shun.  Shun and Yuto ended up spending the whole night searching the internet for resources and Yuto came to the conclusion that he wasn’t in the binary as much as he thought.

Ruri: trans girl, pansexual.  Ruri has been pan as fuck for fucking years and everyone has known it.  She is unapologetic about it.  She only came out officially as trans about a year or two ago but she’s been growing out her hair and wearing skirts for as long as she can remember (cause her parents are two gay moms and they don’t give a shit)

Yugo: cis, hetro asexual.  Yugo didn’t find out he was asexual until he was almost an adult living with Rin, and he and Rin started getting intimate and he panicked.  He and Rin had a long talk where he found out there was a word for what he was and he was so happy he cried.

Rin: cis, questioning sexuality.  Rin still has no idea what the fuck she is.  She enjoys sex and has slept with a few girls post-series, but she’s really just in the end real attached to Yugo.  She gets crushes on a lot of people, girls, boys, and others, but she’s not sure how to classify herself yet and isn’t too bothered by it.

Selena: trans girl, lesbian. Leo accepted it immediately when Selena said she was a girl but it was less of him being accepting and more of him being like “of course you’re a girl, you’re Ray.”  Selena didn’t know she was a lesbian until post series though, when she talked to Yuzu about not understanding what she was feeling and Yuzu helped her figure it out.

Yuuri: trans boy, gay.  Like Selena, he was mostly accepted as being trans from a young age because Leo was like “well of course you’re a guy because you’re Zarc” and it never came up to most of his classmates cause he carded pretty much anyone who found out or harassed him about it.

Gongenzaka: cis, gay.  I really don’t know what else to say about him haha

Reiji: cis but questioning, demiro demisexual/possibly asexual.  Reiji hasn’t had much time to explore his identity, but he’s very awkward and takes a long time to warm up to people in the first place.  He first starts thinking he may be demi when he and Yuya start becoming close friends and he only developed feelings for Yuya then.

Reira: genderfluid, possibly aroace but still questioning.  during the series Reira didn’t really think much about his gender at all because...he didn’t have even identity in his personality.  Post-series though he finds he likes presenting as either, or, or outside the gender binary and likes most pronouns

Sawatari: cis, gay.  he’s been closeted for a while though and it’s not until Yuya tells him that he’s trans and panro that he’s like hang on wait I don’t have to hide it and immediately becomes unapologetically gay af

Hokuto: trans boy, gay

Masumi: cis, lesbian.  She does have her massive crush on Marco, and initially identifies as bi for a long time, but eventually ends up identifying as lesbian

Tsukikage: potentially some kind of nb but male-identifying, gay ace.  his asexuality actually partially stems from some things that happened to him as a kid, or at least, his sex-repulsion does

Yoko: cis, bi/polyamorous.  Yoko was dating three other girls in her gang when she was a kid, and even after she married Yushou, she was still maintaining a relationship with at least two of them.  Yushou has been aware of how this relationship works from the beginning and is completely fine with it.  Yoko's other girlfriends travel a lot but they stop over as often as they can to play with Yuya and hang out with their gf and her husband.  Yusho is not dating the other women but he likes them and they’re all friends

Shun: cis, gay.  He’s been out as gay for as long as Ruri has been out as pan. having lesbian moms helps

Sayaka: demigirl, demisexual.  She currently only really has feelings towards Ruri

Sora: nb, polysexual.  He still tends to use he/him pronouns but dislikes being called a boy.  He first noticed it when he was at Academia and felt irritated every time someone snapped “boy” at him, but it wasn’t until post-series that he had the chance to really explore that

Dennis: cis, aro gay.  Dennis is real good at romantic gestures but finds that he doesn’t actually feel much about them.  He’s in a relationship with Yuuri but doesn’t really feel like he’s in love with him.  He and Yuuri have talked about this and Yuuri was initially annoyed, but Dennis still does care about Yuuri a lot even if he doesn’t feel it romantically, so they make their queerplatonic relationship work.

Grace: slightly genderfluid but generally female-identifying, demiromantic pansexual.

Gloria: cis, lesbian

[asexual-fandom-queen]

Coldwestallenwave, non-power au (:

No powers means no Flash means no Reverse Flash means (at least in my happy little corner of the alternate world) Nora Allen never dies and Henry is never falsely imprisoned. 

This of course means Barry doesn’t grow up with Joe and Iris. Instead he and Iris spend their entire childhood and adolescence still technically joined at the hip but not living under the same roof being raised by the same man, and it helps Iris clue into her feelings about Barry waaaayy earlier.

Barry and Iris start “dating” in the sixth grade, and remarkably don’t break up until their senior year of high school. They both agree they need space to grow and learn more about themselves away from each other, and it’s awkward as hell their entire senior year. Iris goes to prom with the star of the basketball team and doesn’t have a date at all, yet they both spend the whole night watching each other across the dance floor when they think the other isn’t looking. 

Iris and Barry both go to CCU, Iris for journalism, Barry for nursing (he admires doctors, he really does, but he’s seen the job drive his father prematurely grey and anyway, nursing feels a lot more like treating the patient than just the disease, and all Barry’s ever wanted to do is help people)

Their sophomore year of college, after an excruciatingly long time of being “just friends” – being apart – Barry and Iris finally get back together. The time apart was good for them. It let Iris figure out who she is outside of “Detective West’s Kid” and “The Girl Dating Dr. Allen’s Son” and it let Barry explore his sexuality more and come to the point where he’s finally comfortable identifying as bi/ace. But on the other hand, my God does it feel good to be with each other again. 

After Barry finishes school and gets his official nursing license, he and Iris move out of their parents’ homes and get a shitty apartment together in a shitty part of town, all they can afford with loan debts and Iris still in grad school getting her masters, but it’s home and they love it. 

Barry proposes over a carton of Chinese takeout with a white sapphire that puts him out $250, which is simultaneously nothing and a fucking lot. Iris says yes before he has two words of the speech he spent three weeks planning out of his mouth, which is probably for the best, because he’s crying like a baby anyway. They both are. 

Iris gets an internship at CCPN, which is where she gets the incredibly stupid idea to edge out the competition and earn a full time position by getting the exclusive story on a couple of big time thieves moving on mob territory in Central, which brings us to…

Len and Mick, whose backstories haven’t much changed much, except they’re married and have been since they just so happened to be on a job in Massachusetts in 2004, not that Len actively planned for it to work out that way, but that’s basically canon already, right? 

Iris’ investigation takes her into incredibly dangerous territory she’s definitely lying to Barry about being in. Halfway through photographing evidence, a couple of goons from the Santini catch her in the act and point guns at her, and Iris is sure she’s done for, except the gunfire that follows doesn’t come from the Santinis and, surprisingly enough, isn’t directed at her. 

That’s how Len and Iris are officially introduced, with bodies cooling at their feet and Iris five seconds away from a panic attack, but keeping it together better than Len ever expected from a civilian, and damn if that doesn’t impress him even more than her deep brown eyes and they way her clothes fit her like a second skin – and who flashes that much leg trespassing on a mob warehouse, anyway? 

Len takes Iris out to a greasy, hole-in-the-wall diner to get her settled and avoid her going into shock while he calls Mick in to deal with the bodies at the warehouse. Iris is shaken but matches Len’s bravado about “people go missing all the time” and “certain things have a way of happening” and Len knows there’s no way he’s going to throw the young, aspiring journalist off her story, and he really doesn’t want to kill her. Something about the set of her jaw reminds him of someone he used to care about, and the faint smells of harissa and lamb. 

Which is how Len starts acting as Iris’ inside source. He’s prickly about what information he will and won’t give her, and sometimes she pokes her nose where it doesn’t belong even after Len’s thrown her a bone he thought for sure would keep her out of things. They argue something fierce when that happens, but nothing like the night Iris ends up tied to a chair staring down the barrel of a Darbinyan’s gun and she’s more sure that she’s ever been that this is how she’s going to die. 

Until Len shows up with some new gun she’s never seen before – a prototype he stole from STAR Labs, the same place that launched the wildly successful particle accelerator, Iris will learn later – that freezes every mobster solid like ice. He hits them with the hilt of the weapon on his way over for good measure, then he’s untying Iris from her chair, and Iris can’t even think to be nauseous over how gruesome and brutal Len was, how close she came to dying, because Len’s grabbing her by the elbow and pulling her to her feet, pushing her up against a chain link wall and yelling at her to never be so stupid again, and then he’s kissing her and… oh!

Iris doesn’t mean to kiss back, doesn’t even realize she is kissing back until her engagement ring catches on one of the clasps on Len’s leather jacket that she’s always thought he looked so good in – always though thinking as much was innocent, harmless –  and she’s shoving Len back with a horrified gasp and fingers that fly so fast to her lips there’s no way Len doesn’t see the rock on her finger, even in the low, flickering lights of the warehouse. 

Iris goes home that night sick with guilt. Len dropped her off a block away from her building, citing lingering concerns for her safety, but Iris isn’t so convinced it’s not because Len hoping to find something to say over the twenty minute car ride to make things right between them. When Iris puts her hand on the handle to get out, Len finally breaks the silence festering between them by croaking out a shaky admission of “I’m married” that only makes things worse. 

Barry’s cooking breakfast on their crappy stove that only has one working burner when she gets home, just back from a shift at the hospital probably. He does that, cooks Iris breakfast when he has to work nights so they can spend at least some time together, and Iris feels like shit. Barry’s brow furrows, worried and surprised to see her just getting home instead of being in bed asleep, and Iris breaks down into a fit of tears before she can even slide the deadbolt in place. She tells Barry everything, and he cries too, and the eggs burn, and it’s not a good day. 

Len meets back up with Mick at the warehouse to clean up the defrosting mobster pieces and keep the CCPD off their trail. Mick knows something’s off with Len from the moment he catches sight of him. Mick knows about Iris, knows her having such a close brush with death probably rattled Len a lot more than he was expecting, thinks he’s probably trying to wall up whatever clusterfuck of emotions are swirling behind his eyes like he always does when people get too close, like they both do, part of the reason they’ve been off about as much as they’ve been on over the last twenty-some odd years. He doesn’t expect Len to say, quiet but icy as Mick’s ever heard him, “I fucked up.” Partly because Len’s never one to admit his mistakes. But also because Mick’s pretty sure he made it clear – or as clear as he can without them ever really talking about it, because Mick can’t do talking, can’t get past the lump in his throat and the unshakable fear ever time he tries that promises he’ll say something wrong and fuck everything up – that making a move on Iris West was definitely on the table. 

Mick and Iris meet for the first time a week later. There’s a huge power struggle between the Santini’s and the Darbinyan’s happening that’s sure to leave both sides gutted (which he and Len had nothing to do with, if anyone asks) and Mick can see how much Len’s itching to slip Iris some insider information. Idiot’s go the file all put together and everything. He’s just too chicken shit to make a move, won’t say what exactly happened the last time he tried – if he even did try – but it can’t be half as bad a Len’s building it up to be. He just the kind of guy that deals a lot of his own lashes, so to speak. 

Mick corners Iris as she’s walking home through the park. It’s after dark and Mick knows going in it’s gonna give her a hell of a scare, but he can’t see another way to get to her, and she’s the one walking alone at night in a neighborhood like this like she’s got no reason to be afraid. He barely gets his hand around Iris’ wrist before she comes up with pepper spray from her purse and she gets him good in the jaw anyway, and even before she goes still enough to get a good look at her, Mick gets every bit of what Len sees. 

Mick finally gets why Len’s so prickly when he sees the rock on Iris’ finger, when his introduction is met with her stammered apology that’s both contrite and lanced with an edge of genuine terror her never wanted to make a wildfire like her feel. Mick passes the envelope off, tells her no hard feelings, and leaves as quickly as he came before her soft lips and fierce spirit manage to drag him into whatever hell they’ve got Len burning in. 

Iris wars over what to do with the information for an impressive two hours before running with the story. She’s not even surprised at her own behavior, unfair as it might be to Barry. This isn’t about her feelings. It’s about her career. Somehow, the pages still smell like Len – sandalwood and wintergreen and orange blossom – and Iris tries to pretend it doesn’t make her heart skip a beat. 

Mick acts as Iris’ informant from then on. She tells Barry after she publishes her first article using Len’s information delivered through Mick, and Barry understands her obligation to her career, respects it even. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t start tagging along to info drops that turn more and more into strange, almost social outings the longer the arrangement goes on. After almost six months of Len running Iris intel through Mick, Barry and Iris meet Mick at a sketchy bar downtown and order hot wings and cheap beer and Iris doesn’t even realize until she and Barry get home that no information had even been exchanged – the meeting (or was it a date?) hadn’t even been set up under the pretext of doing as much. 

The first time Iris sees Len again after the kissing incident comes when she runs into Mick dragging his listless body up the stairwell in her apartment building and Iris doesn’t even ask how or when Mick found out where she lives. She knows Mick knows Barry’s a nurse, and that’s the only thought she can process, the only thought that screams at her as she rushes forward to prop Len up on his other side and help Mick haul him up the last two flights of stairs. She doesn’t think about how the pit falls out of her stomach at the thought of losing Len, or that she’s bringing the man she had an affair with – if not physically, at least emotionally, Iris is a big enough girl to admit that much – to her fiancé to beg with him if she has to to save his life, or that the man who’s helping her do it is Len’s husband who she realizes, as she notices the cut on the the side of his cheek for the fist time, she’s just as worried about. 

Iris’ cry for help is so chilling, haunting, it wakes Barry up in a cold sweat. He’s still in his underwear when he stumbles into the main room of their apartment and sees her and Mick carry in a man who’s either already dead or on his way fast. It registers with Barry that this has to be Len – Leonard Snart – criminal kingpin, subject of Iris’ past indiscretion. But the desperate look in Mick and Iris’ eyes alike keeps from even breaking stride. Barry’s wide away, directing Mick to lay Len down on the couch, rivers of blood and all, and yelling at Iris to get him his first aid kit and clean set of towels. 

The fact that Len’s still breathing after Barry pulls two slugs out of him and stitches up close to a dozen knife wounds is a miracle. Mick sits vigil on the floor by Len’s head waiting for him to wake up and Iris stands as far away as she can manage in an apartment their size while still keeping an eye on Len, too. Eyes that look worried, but also incredibly guilty and self-loathing, and Barry feels every ounce of hurt and uncertainty leave him in one heavy breath. He presses along Iris’ side and holds her tight and whispers a soft “okay” in her hair that he follows up with a soft, delicate kiss, and Iris sags against him, buries her head in his shoulder, and cries, but this time, it’s with relief. 

Len isn’t fit to go anywhere for a few days, and it sounds like it should be a disaster, but they adapt to it quickly, almost naturally. They give Len the bed as soon as he’s mobile and Mick stays with him, unwilling to leave his side, not that Iris or Barry blame him. Iris and Barry buy a shitty air mattress to lay out in the main room that always deflates by morning, but it’s not like either of them were repeatedly shot and stabbed, so they make it work. Barry comes back from grocery shopping with Mick one afternoon to see Iris curled up against Len’s side in the bedroom, both fast asleep, and it doesn’t make jealously well up in Barry’s throat like the thought it would. Barry and Mick cook supper together and Mick’s hands trail over Barry’s finger on the knife, against the small of his back as the navigate the tight space. They eat soup together around the same rickety table Barry proposed at nearly three years ago, and it feels oddly right. 

[narcissusneverknewme]

Protection Detail Part Three: ♥ The Blossoming of Love ♥

Chapter Five: Kinsey Scales and Dragon Tales

It was clear that Draco had assumed that once the holidays ended and school resumed things, would go back to the way they were before the break. Harry, Neville, and Susan would follow him around incessantly and Ron, Hermione, and Ginny would mostly ignore him, and he would spend most of his free time in the Slytherin common room. He maintained that it was safe for him now that there was more than one student in there at any given time.

Slytherins as a whole, he had explained, were always going to protect their own. While they might not be willing to trail around after him between classes like pathetic puppies in need of attention, they would never allow him to be attacked while they were present. So long as he was not alone, he was safe. Harry did not see it that way.

“If some of them wanted to get at you so bad that they devoted their entire holiday to it-- “ Harry had said.

“Only to be foiled,” Hermione had added, brandishing a finger.

“...Then you can bet they’re more determined than ever.” Harry had finished.

So, even with the return of the Slytherins in full force and with Neville and Susan back to help with protection detail, Draco was spending a lot of time with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.It seemed like the only time the four of them weren’t either in class or together, was during meals and after curfew. With reestablishment of the four house tables, Draco broke off from the group every time they entered the Great Hall.

Harry took a sip of pumpkin juice as he looked up at the enchanted ceiling. The sky was cloudy and dark, blocking out the sun in a sea of gray and silver.

“Harry?! What are you grinning about? Did you hear what Hermione said?” Ron interrupted his thoughts loudly.

“What? No, sorry Hermione. What was it?” Harry said, blinking at her.

“Neville’s got a herbology assignment. He and Draco are in a group with two others and after last class they’re going to spend the day in the Forbidden Forest gathering plant specimens. Apparently Hagrid’s got babysit them, so we can’t go visit him today, either. We’ll have the whole day to ourselves.”

“Oh, uh-huh?” Harry said, looking over at the Slytherin table. Draco was eating with one hand and trying to put a spell on his book bag with the other. He was finally putting on some of the weight he had lost, Harry noticed offhandedly. A voice like Mrs. Weasley’s sounded in his head, not nearly enough, it said.

“Well, Harry? What do you think?”

“Er, yes?”

Quidditch practice ended with Harry feeling confident about his team’s chances for the cup. Harry wasn’t much worried about Ravenclaw this year, and Hufflepuff was doing surprisingly well but Harry was sure his team was better. Slytherin was a threat. After seeing the way his team flew today, though, Harry felt very good about their odds.

He and Ron had planned to meet Hermione by the lake. Halfway there Ron said he’d left something and sprinted back to the castle, calling over his shoulder for Harry to join Hermione.

Harry and Hermione started their slow walk along the lakeside in silence. Then Hermione cleared her throat and sighed.

“You know we love you, right?”

Harry stopped, turning to blink at her, “Yeah. I mean… Yeah. Me too, obviously…” he said awkwardly.

Hermione ran a nervous hand along the strap of her book bag and said, “Ron and I have been talking and,” She paused to take a deep breath, “Well, you haven’t been out much.”

She seemed to expect him to say something. “Hermione, we’re out right now.”

“No, I meant like romantically. On dates. With girls."

“I went out with Cho--”

“Yes, briefly, in our 5th year. But I mean now. You haven’t been seeing anyone?” It sounded like a question.

“Come on, I would have told you. Besides, how would I hide something like that? Why would I?”

“There’s no one you’re interested in?” She pressed.

“I would have told you, wouldn’t I?” Harry repeated.

“Well, we just thought you mightn’t if you thought we didn’t like them or if… maybe it wasn’t a girl?”

“What?” Harry snorted, “Do you think I’ve got a thing for the Giant Squid?”

Hermione colored, “No, we thought… since you’re muggle-raised you might not be comfortable with the idea of two men--”

“Hermione, I’m not gay,” Harry said, amused, “and while the Dursleys might, I haven’t got a problem with people being gay.”

“I’m sure you don’t consciously,” Harry tried to interrupt, but Hermione just raised her voice and her eyebrows, barreling on, “And clearly you aren’t gay, Harry, but… we thought you might be bisexual. You always seemed like you were a bit attracted to Bill, Dean, Zabini, Diggory--”

“To be fair, everyone was ‘a bit attracted’ to Cedric.” Harry said.

“You do realize straight men don’t usually say things like that, don’t you?”

“Just because I can admit that another bloke is attractive--”

“But there’s a difference between admitting someone is attractive and admitting that you are attracted to him.” Hermione said.

They resumed walking, not speaking for a moment.

“You really think I’m gay?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Bisexual. Bi. As in both. Men and women.”

“Listen, I don’t think so. I think I’d know,“ Harry said stubbornly.

“Okay. If you’re sure. Ron and I just wanted to make sure you know that we support you regardless of what you like or who you date.”

“Okay. Thanks?” Harry thought for a moment. “Wait… how long have you two been talking about this?” Hermione looked at him guilty. He narrowed his eyes at her as he spoke, “Ron said something about it in the Great Hall months ago. I thought he was kidding.”

“Yes, well, we’ve wanted to talk to you for a while-- “

“You’ve wanted to know if I was gay for months?”

“Bisexual, Harry.”

“Months? Why didn’t you just ask?”

“Well I wondered-- wonder-- if you even know yourself. Have you ever thought about it?”

“No. But don’t you think I’d know if I were?”

“Not necessarily, not raised by who you were. You didn’t realize that you’d been doing magic for 11 years until it blew down the door and gave your cousin a pig’s tail! Your aunt and uncle wanted to suppress it in you and it wouldn’t surprise me if they were the type of muggle who’d want to repress your sexuality, too. And, I’m sorry Harry, but you’ve never been any good at self-reflection.” She said. Harry eyed her in irritation.

“Fine. What do you want me to do? Go around kissing boys for a week, jot down a few notes, and report back?”

“Actually,” Hermione said as, to Harry’s horror, she reached into her bag and withdrew a large roll of parchment, “This is a Kinsey Scale test.” She said. Harry felt a wave of relief that it wasn’t notepaper, she continued, “I’ve done some reading and… it’s supposed to help you think about stuff like this. It’s normal for people to be unsure of where they fall on the scale and this can be helpful place to start questioning…” Harry sighed but allowed her to shove the parchment into his hands. “It’s enchanted to grade itself. You have to be completely honest, though.” She added.

“I don’t need a test to tell me who I am,” Harry said.

“No but… It’s just supposed to help you think. Please, Harry, just read it over sometime. Please?”

Soon after, Ron joined them. “So,” he greeted Hermione, “did you ask him?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, “and she gave me some wonky test to take.”

“It’s a Kinsey Scale test, it’s a scale from, zero to six, to see--"

“Where you sit on the gay-straight spectrum.” Ron finished for her. The other two stared at him until he explained, “Charlie took it once.”

“What did he get?” Harry asked.

“X,” Ron said.

“X?” Harry asked, “I thought it was out of six?”

“Yeah,” Ron said, “if you’re on the gay-straight spectrum.”

“What?” Harry asked, now completely lost, “How can you not be?”

“Charlie prefers eating cake to snogging and thinks dragons are more interesting than boys or girls.” Ron explained, shrugging.

“Charlie’s asexual?” Hermione asked.

“What’s asexual?” Harry asked.

“Ron just explained what it is,” Hermione said.

“Well then why did you ask?”

###

That night when Harry was sure Ron was asleep, he took Hermione’s test, trying to be as honest as possible. He found some of the questions deeply embarrassing, and a lot of them were hard to answer. When he finished, he held his breath as the space at the bottom began to display words in a boring, neutral font, “3” his results read “You are equally heterosexual and homosexual. You feel romantic interest and sexual attraction to both genders and may identify as bisexual.” Harry wondered if Hermione had rigged the test.

Of course she didn’t, he reprimanded himself. Still, better to check. The parchment could be faulty.

He retook it, this time changing his answers to ones that sounded like something Charlie Weasley would say. “X” the parchment concluded, “You have no socio-sexual contacts or reactions. You likely do not experience sexual attraction, and may not experience romantic desire. You might identify as asexual.”

&nbsp

He had been jumpy all day. Dean Thomas was in a good mood and his bright smile haunted Harry. Then he bumped into sixth year Ravenclaw boy on the third floor and apologized, red-faced. Did I blush because he’s good-looking or because I just ran into him in an almost-empty passageway like an idiot? Neville passed him an ink well in class and for a moment Harry was afraid the that world had come to a dark, cruel ending and he was attracted to Neville Longbottom. A moment later, however, Harry realized he’d been over analyzing things.

He took a couple of deep breaths and shook his head to clear it. He was not interested in Dean Thomas or that random Ravenclaw and he was certainly not attracted to Neville. Hermione was wrong and so was her test.

By the time he walked into potions he was feeling much better. He sat as his usual seat and waited for Slughorn to get started.

“Alright, class! We’re going to be trying something new this afternoon, just to spice things up. Everyone find a partner from a different house. We’re going to be brewing Comitate Inimicus today!” There was some groaning, followed by shuffling around, as the class re-arranged itself.

Harry gathered his things and walked to the desk next to Draco without pausing to think. Draco stared.

“What?” Harry asked grumpily.

“Nothing.” Draco said, still eyeing Harry.

Harry set his cauldron down forcefully and met Draco’s gaze. They stood like that for a moment, just looking at each other. Harry felt like there was something caught in his throat and he couldn’t breathe properly. He’d noticed this happening a few times before, but what he had not noticed was that Draco’s gray eyes held the tiniest bit of blue near their centers. It was like seeing water among the stars.

Slughorn’s voice rang out, “Haha, boys, you’d better get started if you don’t want to fall behind. Miss Granger has already got a head start on you!” Harry jumped and turned to Slughorn. Slughorn winked and Harry, who felt his face flushing for the second time that day, spun to look at Hermione. She was giving him her best I’m-not-saying-anything expression as she shredded stapelia flowers.

Harry tried to avoid making eye contact with Draco for the rest of the class, something that proved easy, as the potion was a challenging one.

The next few weeks passed as Harry slowly processed the truth. He was taken aback by how astonishingly little his recent realizations changed. He was definitely attracted to males (Dean Thomas and that random Ravenclaw from the third floor included). This turned out to not really be a big deal. He’d always reacted this way to men, he just had never understood it to be attraction.

He found Ginny and Susan very pretty, it had never made him weird or uncomfortable around them. He now recognized that he had thought Dean handsome long before he noticed that he thought Dean was handsome, and it had never made him weird around Dean either, because he didn’t think of Dean in terms of attractiveness any more than he did Ginny or Susan, they were just his (very good-looking) friends. So neither Dean or the Third Floor Ravenclaw were a problem. In fact, the problem seemed to be Draco.

It’s not because I’m more attracted to him, it’s just that it’s weirder that I am, Harry reasoned as he looked at Draco surreptitiously over the Herbology homework he was pretending to do.

It was their free period and they were sitting in the armchairs next to the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room. No one even bothered to looked Draco’s way anymore, the entirety of Gryffindor was now thoroughly accustomed to the sight of the Slytherin in their common room. Manasa was slowly climbing up Draco’s shoulder, it didn’t seem as though Draco had noticed yet.

But, I mean, objectively, from an outside point of view… If you didn’t know what a colossal prat he is… Harry ducked his head as Draco glanced up, the firelight catching in his white eyelashes and casting strange, feathery shadows across his cheeks. It’s just because he’s not as established as a friend. In my head. That’s what it is.

In that moment Harry came to two realizations. First, that he was an abysmal liar; second, that he unequivocally considered Draco his friend.

Harry looked up at his newfound friend in wonder. Draco had finally noticed Manasa and had pulled her off his side and set her in his lap. He was stroking the back of her head with one finger as he read.

“Warm. But very silly.” She told Harry.

“Silly?” Harry asked. Draco’s eyes snapped up to him, but Harry was focused on his pet, “What’s he done this time?” He asked.

“This not as warm. Skin is warm.”

“Were you hoping he’d let you wiggle under his jumper?” Harry asked, amused. He sometimes let her lay over his shoulders and worm her tail under his collar when she was cold, but no one else gave her the chance.

“Yes,” She answered, “But he is silly.”

“It’s not that silly, Mans. You feel cold to him.”

“Not if he makes warm.” She answered petulantly.

Harry looked up, grinning, to see Draco watching him. “What did she say?” Draco asked.

“She’s complaining.

“What on earth does she have to complain about?”

“The closer she is to you, the warmer she is.

“Oh,” Draco said with a sneer, “She thinks that just because her owner is a giant marshmallow everyone else is going to let her put her cold, scaly body wherever she wants. Is that it?”

“You’re right,” Harry told Manasa, “He is very silly.”

###

The Easter holidays were fast approaching and they were all avoiding the question of who was going to stay with Draco. After a few days of uncertainty, the four of them were sitting at a table in the Gryffindor common room. Harry had fallen asleep on his arms.

Voices filtered through his sleepy ears as he started to wake up.

“No, I’m not going home, and no you’re not all staying. Mordred, you three are ridiculous.”

“Everyone else is going away again.” Hermione argued, “And we can’t just leave you here, Draco.”

“Yes you can, I’m not a child.”

“Malfoy, mate, Hermione’s right. Even if we thought you’d be fine, Harry’s not going to let us leave you. You know how he gets.” Harry resented that last bit. The year he’d spent on the run had made him cautious, but it hadn’t turning him into some kind of… Moody or something.

“You’re right,” Draco said, “He’s even more impossible than you clowns.”

“Look, he’s never going to agree to let you stay here by himself. You know he’d rather sacrifice his own comfort than let you get hurt,” Ron half whispered. Harry practically heard Draco’s eyeroll. “But,” Ron went on, “I think he’d like to go to the Burrow for the holiday; and Mum’s set on having him over.”

“Yes,” drawled Draco, “best not let Mummy down, she must have quite the temper, with hair that color.”

“Draco--” Hermione warned.

“Well, what do you want me to do about it? I don’t see a solution, do you?”

“Molly says you can come to the Burrow with us.” Hermione said.

There was a moment of silence.

“I’m not. I won’t.”

“It’s only fair,” Ron said, “He’s already given up one holiday for you."

“But we only want to do it if you’re going to try to be pleasant.” Hermione added quickly, “Mrs. Weasley is one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever--”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure you worship the earth under her impoverished feet,” Draco interrupted. There was a tense pause. Then, “Fine,” Draco said, “I’ll do it. And yes Granger, I’ll be all sunshine and daisies to Mr. and Mrs. Mink.”

“I’d stop with the weasel jokes, Draco,” Harry said, stretching his arms and rubbing his eyes, “We’ve not forgotten a certain white ferret we all met in fourth year.” Harry looked up at Draco from his position slumped across the table, “I personally liked him but I’m not sure you’d appreciate his reappearance.”

Three bright red faces avoided Harry’s eyes, as though they’d thought they were having a covert conversation. Right in front of him. Harry rolled his eyes.

###

On the first evening of spring break, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Harry, and Draco appeared a short walk from the Burrow, clutching a suitcase apiece and dressed in muggle clothes. Draco looked extremely apprehensive, something that didn’t bode well for Harry’s hopes that he’d be civil. As the sun set behind them, the four walked the short distance to the Weasley’s home in relative silence.

Harry was still unsure about this whole thing, and had only agreed to come because he’d been compelled to by a warm letter from Mrs. Weasley specifically asking him to spend the holiday with at the Burrow, and assuring him that “any friends of yours, Harry dear, will always be welcome.”

Just before their little party reached front porch, Molly Weasley opened the front door. Out poured five Weasleys, Fleur’s golden hair standing out in a sea of ginger.

“Charlie’s not here?” Ron called over his mother’s shoulder as she embraced him.

“He’ll be here in a few days.” said Percy.

Mrs. Weasley had released Ron and was now giving Hermione warm hug. The others crowded around, patting backs and punching shoulders. Fleur was also doling out hugs, having claimed Ginny first, and then Harry.

When Mrs. Weasley reached him she whispered “Welcome home, Harry,” as she wrapped him in a hug. Harry pretended that he had not gone slightly pink and that his eyes had not stung at the words, and hugged her back firmly.

She released him and turned to Draco, who had looked mildly uncomfortable before, but who now turned to her, eyes wide with trepidation.

“Ah, Draco. Welcome.” She said, leaning in and giving him a one-armed hug. Draco patted her lightly, looking as though he was poised to run.

She pulled away as Fred shouted, “Don’t suffocate him, Mum!”

“Yeah, Mum,” George added, “He’s not used to affection!”

Molly turned to admonish her sons, but Harry caught the look of relief on Draco’s face. Draco, Harry felt sure, had been ready for hostility, maybe even icy diplomacy, but he had been completely unprepared for Mrs. Weasley’s heartfelt welcome. Harry tried to communicate “I told you so” with his eyebrows behind Molly’s back.

Soon enough the welcome party ushered the four of them inside. Ron led the way to his bedroom, where Harry had always stayed when he came and which Draco would now share with them.

Harry smirked at the look on Draco’s face.

“It’s…”

“Fantastic, right?” Harry grinned, dropping his bag on the floor.

“Worse than your common room! Why is it orange? Everything is… so orange.”

Harry laughed and clapped Ron and Draco on the backs, “Well, I can smell your mum’s cooking already, Ron, so I’m off.”

Draco sat between Harry and Hermione. Ginny sat opposite him and gave him a knowing smile. He returned it a little sarcastically, but Harry saw that he’d relaxed considerably. Harry grinned at Ginny and she gave him a wink. This seemed to irritate Draco, to Harry’s delight

Draco didn’t say much at dinner, other than when he got in an argument with Percy over homecare potion regulations and when Fleur engaged him in a discussion held in rapid fire French.

“I didn’t know you spoke French,” Harry said to Draco.

“Your petit ami speaks very well, Aarry.”

Draco colored slightly. “No. No, no,” he said, with an impressively convincing fake laugh, “Pas mon petit ami, mi bon ami.>”

“Ah, no! Pardon! Although, you know, c’est triste. I like you, Draco.” She said.

Draco laughed again and shifted in his seat. He glanced at Harry, “au moins quelqu'un fait.”

Bill laugh, Draco turned to him, eyes narrowing. “You speak French, too?” he asked, looked somehow more embarrassed than before. Bill just grinned and took his wife’s hand. Draco looked around “How many of you?”

Four or five people laughed at this as Bill assured Draco that it was just himself and Fleur.

While Harry didn’t speak French, he was pretty sure he knew what Fleur’s mistake had been. Harry, along with half the table, pretended not to have heard a word.

The rest of the holiday went by easily. The twins had snark offs with Draco a few times, but they all seemed to enjoy themselves. After the first night or two, Draco relaxed, even surrounded as he was by redheaded blood traitors.

One of the highlights of the trip was the friendly games of quidditch. When Harry first jumped on his broom he felt the same rush flying always gave him. The weather was starting to warm up and the wind felt delicious as it brushed his cheek and whipped through his hair.

Draco was just as competitive in the Weasley’s backyard as he was on the Hogwarts pitch. He and Harry streaked through the air, just avoiding knocking one another off their brooms and weaving between the other players. Somehow, Harry and Draco wound up on the same team for the third game. They had broken for lunch when Charlie had arrived and when they split back up Draco was on Bill’s team, Charlie on Arthur's. They played for hours.

On the last night of their stay they were seated around the table, just having finished dinner. They joking and discussing quidditch when Mrs. Weasley declared, “there’s something you’re father’s been meaning to say.”

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. Everyone went quiet and watched him expectantly. He look at Harry, Draco, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny in turn as he spoke, “You’re all adults now. You’re about to leave school for good. That means a lot of good things, there lots of things for you to do and experience now, but it also means responsibility. You can’t lose sight of what’s important. Friends, family, what’s right here, at this table.”

Harry felt Draco stir next to him and felt a strange urge to touch him, to pat his back or something. Harry didn’t move, he may have even stopped blinking.

Mr. Weasley started polishing his glasses as he went on, “You’ll have to decide your priorities for yourselves. If you value anything or any person, if you want them stay in your life, you have to make the effort. When you know what is important you have to do more than just leave room for it, life doesn’t let you just leave room. You either pursue it or it fades away.”

“Like when Charlie went off to Romania,” Mrs. Weasley put it, looking fondly at her son.

“Yes, exactly,” agreed Mr. Weasley, “He decided family was a priority. It isn’t as easy as it seems to stay in contact, to visit, to send letters once you’ve grown up. Even for Bill and Percy, and the twins, and they all live in England.”

“Come on, Dad, we do a great job, don’t we Fred?” ‘That we do, George. Come home to eat every time we get hungry, don’t we?”

Mr. Weasley chuckled.

“All of you do a wonderful job,” Mrs. Weasley said fondly, “It would be nice to see some of you a bit more,” she glanced at Percy and then Bill, “but we know you’re busy with your own lives. That’s what your dad’s trying to say. If it’s important you have to fight for it, and it isn’t easy.”

When the holiday was over Mrs. Weasley sent them all back with more homemade sweets than any of them could possibly want. It had been satisfying for Harry, seeing Molly fuss over Draco at every meal. She by no means neglected to strongarm Harry into seconds and thirds of everything; but oh! how she had lamented at Draco’s thin frame! Harry grinned into his potatoes the first time she had forced yet another helping onto Draco’s plate. Harry had relished the quiet panic in the other boy’s eyes. The sight didn’t get less enjoyable as it became more common, either.

[neverending-monologue]

Had a really weird dream last night, and even though I don’t know if anyone will be interested, I decided I should write it down somewhere anyway.

So, there dream was basically that I was at a party and I saw someone who looked like my ex.  In the dream, I was aware that we’d broken up, and I wasn’t 100% sure it was him anyway.  It could have been someone else.  Later in the dream, though, I accidentally bumped into him, and when I apologized, he actually seemed really happy to see me again.  Also, for some reason, in the dream, I think he identified as a girl?  He went by a different name than the one he went by in real life.  I don’t remember exactly what we did together in the dream, but I remember us talking a little about the other part of the plot of the dream (we were at my cousins’ house who my ex apparently knew - I don’t think that’s true for real life as the only relatives of mine he met were my parents and sisters).  I remember feeling extremely happy that everything was back to normal and my ex and I were together again. 

However, it’s pretty late in the morning, so mom accidentally woke me up while I was still sleeping.  That was about fifteen minutes ago.  At first I was upset that she woke me up from such a happy dream, but then I realized that it was probably a good thing.  It’s been three to four years since I even saw my ex in person.  We broke up in high school, and I’ve just finished graduating with my bachelor’s.  About a year after we broke up, I realized I wasn’t even interested in dating guys.  While we’d been dating, and I’m not going to go into full detail about this since I feel like it would be rude to talk about his past gender identities while he’s not even here, he was questioning his gender, and today he identifies as a trans guy.  While we’d been dating, I’d been fine with any identity he had because I identified as bi and no matter what, he was still a person I loved very much.  I know it’s horrible that my brain was like “your ex identifies as a girl this time for some reason!” but my dream erased a lot more about him than just his current gender identity.  In the dream, it was just like in high school where we were happy, but after we broke up, I realized I dodged a bullet in that relationship.  On my end, I wasn’t great at communicating, and we were running out of things to talk about.  On his end... I wasn’t giving him the kind of intimacy he needed, and my fear of being intimate with him was what caused me to identify as ace for a while.  I’m not sure if that label is right for now, but it’s what I used to make myself feel better about the fact that I didn’t want to be so physically close to him.  Even though he would never have forced me into anything, I’m worried that I might have forced myself to be intimate with him out of fear of him leaving me, but luckily he broke up with me before I went that far.  And then there’s also the fact that I came across his tumblr... Yeah, I’m glad we broke up.

The dream shows that, despite how I’ve moved on in real life, I’m not completely over him.  I’m jealous that he’s dated a few people since high school (and apparently his school has a billion LGBT+ groups?  Then again his school is huge so no surprise there - I went to two schools that were much smaller).  I don’t really need a relationship right now as I’ve been busy with school, worried about what would happen if I were to come out to the rest of my family, and also, I just haven’t met anyone I felt that way about.  I’m fine with that - I met friends over the past few years, and I would rather have no relationship than a relationship that feels forced because neither of us had anyone else.  Still, I can’t forget that once in a while I see pictures of my ex and have to immediately look away because of the horrible pang it causes.  I may no longer identify as someone who wants to date a guy, but that doesn’t change the fact that, at one point, I loved my ex, and I think my relationship with him was part of the reason it took me so long to figure out my identity. 

Anyway, I feel like it’s odd that I had this dream now, considering I haven’t thought about him in some time.  If we met in real life, I have no idea what I’d think.  I’d have some angry things I’d want to say, I’m sure, but I wouldn’t say any of that out loud.  Despite how happy I felt in the dream, I know that he’s a different person now, or maybe he’s never been the person I thought he was.  I’m glad that, when I’m conscious at least, I’m aware of that.